The Bride & The Other Brother
by nothelping
Summary: Vilkas hated her the moment he met her. She was not worthy of being a Companion. She was not worthy of his brother. Vilkas was storming towards the bridal suite like a hurricane before he knew what he was doing. His face twisted into something that was a cross between a smile and a sneer as one thought raced across his mind: The bride was in for one rude awakening.
1. Chapter 1

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Description**: Vilkas hated her the moment he met her. He didn't care if she was the Dragonborn. She was an unscrupulous thief that hid like a coward under her hood. She was not worthy of being a Companion. She was not worthy of his brother. Vilkas was storming towards the bridal suite at the Temple of Mara like a hurricane before he knew what he was doing. His hands clenched and unclenched as he positively vibrated with fury. Vilkas neared her door with a manic glint in his wild silver eyes, drawn to her like a shark was drawn to blood. His face twisted into something that was a cross between a smile and a sneer as one thought raced across his mind: The bride was in for one rude awakening. Dragonborn x Vilkas. Dragonborn x Farkas. Dragonborn x Brynjolf.

**Disclaimer**: Bethesda owns Skyrim and its characters. I just play with them.

**Chapter 1**

Vilkas sat in the very last pew by the door, arms crossed over his chest and a deep scowl on his face. Silver eyes surrounded by black war paint scanned the faces around him, all of whom were there to bear witness to the horrible travesty that was too occur in a few hours. Today, that foul, insufferable creature - the Dragonborn - was too marry his beloved twin brother.

Yeah, over Vilkas' dead body.

How these so called "friends" were allowing these two people too get married was beyond him. His loving brother was noble, kindhearted, and honorable. While that horrible, blackhearted wench of a Breton was disgraceful, cowardice, and weak.

The moment he'd met her, Vilkas knew she wasn't worthy of being a Companion. She was quiet and small - didn't even come up to his chin - and just stood there in front of him and Kodlak wearing that vile Thieves Guild Armor, which was too big on her, while she asked to join the Companions.

She was a thief! The most dishonorable sort of person, one that stole from others to fund their own selfish needs. How could someone like that be allowed to join a group as reputable and principled as the Companions?

But Kodlak liked her, said she had a fire in her heart, or some such nonsense. Since Kodlak was Harbinger and like a father to him, Vilkas had accepted the old man's judgment, though Vilkas had made his objections known not only to Kodlak, but to the Breton as well.

Following Kodlak's orders, Vilkas had taken the Breton outside to test her arm. Moments later he'd discovered that she only used daggers! Daggers! The whelp couldn't even lift a real sword! She was utterly pathetic and useless. No milk-drinker like her could possibly be called shield-sister. But again Kodlak had dismissed his objections and let the Breton girl become a Companion.

After that, Vilkas' dislike for the girl only grew. The Breton rarely said a word to anyone and was always sneaking out in the middle of the night, most likely thieving. She declined Athis' offer to teach her how to use a proper sword and she refused to wear anything other than that shameful Thieves Guild Armor. And she _always_ had her hood up, covering her face. Vilkas had never once seen her without her hood on. How could he possibly trust someone if he'd never seen their face?

The others didn't mind her, but only because they never really noticed her. She was so quiet and unsociable that most forgot she was even there. But, of course, Farkas liked her. Vilkas' twin was constantly pestering him to "get to know the girl" and to "give her a chance", but Vilkas refused. He didn't _want_ to get to know her. He wanted her gone. She didn't belong with them, and she knew it. So why didn't she just leave?

It infuriated him how the Breton would always come over to him whenever she entered a room he was in. She would sit beside him and ask him questions about himself, his brother, or the Companions. Once he relented and answered her questions, she would usually stay at his table - much to Vilkas' dismay - though she rarely spoke when she did, which was nice.

Then she would only take jobs from him, which irritated him. And she was rarely able to complete the jobs he did assign her. The first job he sent her on was so simple a skeever could've completed it.

But oh no, not this girl.

She was supposed to find Xander and rough him up a bit by initiating a bare-knuckle fight. Xander ended up dragging the Breton back to Jorrvaskr after he'd knocked her out. After recovering from the injuries Xander had given her, the Breton had asked Vilkas for a new job. He gave her the same job again. This time she cheated and had a member of the Thieves Guild do the job for her. A dishonorable, deceiving, weakling – that's what she was. How the hell was that wimp supposed to fight dragons… and win? If that milk-drinker truly was the Dragonborn, then they were all doomed to suffer in Oblivion.

Still, she'd somehow managed to stay alive long enough to be asked to go on a special mission with Farkas a few weeks later. It was there that she saw Farkas transform into a werewolf. Once she'd learned their little secret, Vilkas was positive she would pack her bags and be long gone by the time Farkas had returned to Jorrvaskr.

Nope.

The intolerable creature still remained, like a cold sore on the inside of his cheek.

After that, things got worse. The Breton started searching him out at all hours of the day, asking him idiotic and mundane questions about being a werewolf. She would come into his room completely unannounced, flip through his books, eat all his sweet rolls, and play with his weapons until she'd dropped them so many times they'd become dull and needed to be sharpened again.

Vilkas hated her. She had become an ever-present torment and the bane of his existence! He never saw her annoying anyone else with her inane prodding and trespassing. Rather, she still remained mostly mute and reserved around the others. So why did she hound him so?

A few weeks later the Breton gladly took the beast-blood from Aela, as though she didn't care what happened to her soul. Vilkas figured she most likely didn't have one to tarnish in the first place.

After her first transformation, Skjor died.

The Breton made Aela come with her to seek revenge against the Silver Hand. What a stupid, stupid girl. Aela didn't need to seek revenge. She needed to mourn over the death of her lover. But the Breton didn't care. All that mattered to her was satisfying her blood lust.

When the two women returned to Jorrvaskr days later from their quest for revenge, Vilkas had yelled at the Breton, telling her how reckless and stupid she was. Because of her actions, Skjor was dead and the Silver Hand had declared war against them. While he'd yelled at her, she didn't say one word. She'd simply stood there in her tattered and bloodied thief armor, her face hidden under that vile hood, silent as the grave, as if she didn't care that one of their own was dead or that their home was now under attack. As if none of them mattered to her. Vilkas had wanted to rip that hood back and look into her eyes to see if they were as black as her heart.

Vilkas avoided the Breton after that like the plague. The wench would still come sit beside him, but Vilkas would stand the moment she sat next to him and storm out of the room. She'd followed him the first couple of times, but stopped once he started shouting at her to leave him the hell alone.

"So, your this 'Vilkas' everyone's been talking about, huh?" A masculine voice said, pulling Vilkas from his thoughts. Vilkas looked up to find a male Nord turned around in the pew in front of him, grinning at him like a fool. He had long, shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, and a goatee. "Names Vipir, Vipir the Fleet," the Nord said pleasantly with an outstretched hand.

Vilkas eyed the other man's hand suspiciously before shaking it once. "Vilkas."

"So, you're the brother of the groom?"

"Yes," Vilkas grumbled. "Unfortunately."

The other Nord tilted his head to the side, eying him curiously. "Unfortunate that he's your brother, or unfortunate that he's the groom?"

Vilkas scowled. "The latter."

Vipir laughed. "Don't like the bride much, huh?"

Vilkas leveled the man with a cold, hard stare. "No."

Vipir's grin faltered in the face of such a viciously nasty glare and cold penetrating eyes. Nervously, he cleared his throat, "Well, she's no angel, but she's family."

If it were at all possible, Vilkas' glare deepened. "And just _how_ is she family?"

Vipir awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, unnerved by the other man's ferocity and intensity. "We're both members of the Thieves Guild." The man chuckled, and then said mostly to himself, "Brynjolf's going to lose it when he hears she's getting married."

Vilkas' eyes fell to the thief armor the man was wearing and he sneered with contempt. "So, you're a disgusting street rat that steals from honest people, just like her?"

Vipir's eyebrows flew up and he quickly held up his hands in a placating manner. "Whoa... what's with all the hostility? I was just trying to make conversation."

Vilkas' eyes flashed an abnormal shade of yellow and his lips curled back to reveal freakishly long and sharp teeth. "If you knew what was good for you, thief, you'd get out of my sight." His voice was unnaturally deep, nothing more than a growl that seemed to vibrate from somewhere deep inside his chest. He sounded more beast than man, his aura practically feral, and Vipir was already across the room and out the door before Vilkas could even blink.

Vilkas dropped his head in his hands and rubbed his face.

_Talos save me, I'm loosing it_, he thought. He'd really wanted that thief's blood on his hands and on his teeth just then. The beast inside of him was practically howling for it.

_Damn it all to Oblivion_, Vilkas groaned inwardly. _I really need to keep it together. I really need to calm down and reel the beast in before I do something really stupid, like transform and slaughter everyone here. I need to get a grip. I need to calm down... but how can I when the woman that caused Kodlak's death is about to marry my brother!_

Weeks after her revenge quest with Aela, the Breton had disappeared. No one knew where she'd gone, or if she was ever returning. Vilkas had been furious. How could she cause all these problems for them and then just abandon them! How heartless did someone have to be to start a war and then run away like a cowardly bitch with their tail between their legs!

They'd been attacked a few days later while eating dinner. Kodlak had been laughing at a joke Torvar had said when a silver sword was plunged through his heart. He died instantly. It became a frenzy of fighting, blood, and death after that. His home had become a battleground that was soaked with the blood of his family. Once it was over, the stink of death and blood had been so potent in the air that Vilkas could no longer breath it in. He'd escaped out the front doors of Jorrvaskr for some much needed fresh air when he saw her, the Breton, walking up the steps towards him.

She carried a bag that was dripping crimson at the bottom. Her thief armor had been covered in dirt and blood, she'd walked with a limp, and the only parts of her face that were visible to him under her hood - the tip of her nose, lips, and chin - were caked in dried blood.

Vilkas' vision had faded to red at the sight of her and he was on her in an instant, snarling and screaming in her face, calling her every name imaginable, and blaming her for Kodlak's death. It was her fault Kodlak was murdered because she hadn't been there to protect Jorrvaskr! To protect their home!

She had remained silent as he vented his anger on her. When he was done her quiet voice had spoken, telling him that Kodlak had sent her on a mission, one that would cure their lycanthropy. She told him about the Glenmoril Witches and how she had failed in collecting all of their heads. After taking one of the witches' heads, she had become outnumbered and injured and was forced to flee the cave. When she returned the next day after healing herself, the witches were gone.

While a part of him had been glad to hear that they could at least free Kodlak's soul, the rest of him had been boiling with unbridled rage, incited by the roaring beast inside of him. Because of her foolhardiness, weakness, and incompetence as a warrior, he would never be able to meet Kodlak again in Sovngarde, never be able to spend an eternity in Shor's wondrous hall. Rather, his soul would be claimed by Hircine for his Great Hunt.

Vilkas had snapped then, his beast-blood demanding retribution for everything the foul woman had stolen from him, and he had tried to attack her. But Farkas had stopped him, restrained him from ripping out her fucking throat.

Vilkas had run off then into the night. He needed to let his inner beast free. He needed to hunt them down. He needed to tear the one's responsible apart with his bare claws, and think of her while he did it. All he could feel was the uncontrollable fury raging like a frenzy in his veins. He just wanted blood. He wanted to see it on his claws and taste it on his fangs. Once he was in the woods, he let himself go. It felt good to let loose after refraining for so long. When he transformed back into a human in the morning, Vilkas was covered in blood. Not his own, but the Silver Hand's. He had killed every living thing in their base. And he had enjoyed it. After bathing in a nearby lake, he'd found some clothes and returned to Jorrvaskr.

The Breton had been waiting for him in his room, sitting on his bed, looking as though she hadn't eaten or bathed or changed since the night before. She had tried to apologize to him, but Vilkas wouldn't hear it. His fury was still there, white-hot and simmering beneath the surface of his skin, his heart still broken from all that he had lost because of her. He'd grabbed her arm and thrown her out of his room, telling her never to return or speak to him ever again.

That night, Aela had sought Vilkas out. She'd crawled into his bed seeking comfort, and he gave it to her. She cried into his chest while he whispered consoling words in her ear and ran his fingers soothingly through her hair. Aela had kissed him, and Vilkas had returned it. At some point their clothes had been removed and he was moving inside of her. They were using each other to keep the loneliness at bay and to escape their own personal demons. Aela used Vilkas to forget about Skjor and her broken heart, while Vilkas used Aela to numb the pain Kodlak's death had caused him as well as the knowledge that he would never be cured of the beast-blood. The next morning, Vilkas and Aela had dressed quickly and in complete silence. They'd each gotten what they wanted from the other and now, that the deed was done, nothing more needed to be said.

Vilkas had opened his door to find the Breton girl waiting for him with an apology falling from her lips and a sweet roll in her hands lifted towards him in a peace offering. Vilkas had stared down at her, then the sweet roll, then her again, unsure of what to do or say.

Aela had appeared in the doorway then, straitening her disheveled clothes and hair, asking who was at the door. Though he couldn't see the Breton's eyes under her hood, Vilkas could see her head turn slightly every so often, as if she were looking back and forth between him and Aela. The Breton had then muttered an apology before shoving the sweet roll at him and rushing down the hall as if Daedra were nipping at her heels.

The Breton never sought him out after that. She never came to sit beside him, never came to his room to bother him and look through his books and eat his sweet rolls, never asked him silly questions or played with his weapons. Vilkas had been relieved that he was finally free of her, but a very small, very minuscule part of him had felt disappointed and guilty at her distance, and somewhat remorseful.

Several times Aela had come to him in the middle of the night, removing her clothes and slipping into his bed. Vilkas had refused her every time, ordering her to return to her own room. Vilkas had been vexed to discover that Aela was growing clingy and demanding. It had become apparent to him that Aela no longer only wanted him as a source of comfort and a means to chase away ghosts, but as something more. That was something he was not comfortable with. Aela wasn't what he wanted.

As Vilkas distanced himself from Aela, that's when the Breton began spending a lot of time with Farkas. They would go on jobs together, drink at the Bannered Mare together, sit beside each other at the far end of the dinner table, and occasionally Vilkas would hear her laugh coming from his brother's room at night. Their closeness bothered him, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He assumed it was because he didn't want her influencing his brother, turning him into something ignoble and detestable like her.

It wasn't long until Vilkas began noticing the longing looks and furtive touches his twin would give the thief. Vilkas warned Farkas not to get involved with her. He reminded his twin of all her faults and follies, warned him of the harm she would inevitably cause him. But Farkas had merely brushed his warnings aside and simply said, "You just don't know her brother."

A few weeks later, Vilkas had been outraged to learn that Kodlak had named the Breton the next Harbinger in his journal. Farkas had been ecstatic and had thrown her a party at the Bannered Mare to celebrate her new title, but Vilkas had refused to attend. He refused to allow that immoral creature to be the leader of the family he loved so much. Plus, she didn't even seem to care that she'd been made Harbinger! When asked if she would accept the position, she'd merely shrugged and said sure.

While the others had celebrated, Vilkas had fumed in his room. The Breton would run the good name of the Companions through the dirt and make them just as sullied and disrespected as that Thieves Guild of hers. She would be the end of the Companions. He was sure of it.

The next morning a white envelope was slid under his door. Vilkas had picked it up, opened it, and had nearly fallen over when he read that Farkas had proposed to the Breton the night before at the Bannered Mare and that she had accepted. The two were to be wed in Riften at the end of the week.

And now Vilkas was here, on the dreaded day, at the Temple of Mara, stewing with a ferocious rage the likes of which he had never experienced before.

Vilkas hated Riften. It was a city of cheats and backstabbing snakes. It was a city where the worst of humanity collected the poison of Skyrim. It was here, in this gods forsaken city, where his sweet brother would be entrapped and devoured by that she-devil. He couldn't allow that to happen. He had to do something. He couldn't let this wedding take place!

"Vilkas," Aela purred in his ear, pulling him from his thoughts. Vilkas hadn't even noticed she'd taken the seat beside him in the pew. "I like you without your armor. You look… delectable."

Vilkas looked down at his attire. He wore a black tunic with loose black pants and boots. All of the guests had been told not to wear armor so that the ceremony didn't feel quite like a gang of warriors in preparation for battle.

"I prefer my armor," he grumbled.

"Hmm. But why the long face? Aren't you happy for your brother?"

"No," he answered curtly, pulling away from her when she ran her fingers through his hair.

Aela frowned at Vilkas' refusal of her touch and muttered, "You should congratulate them. They're both in the back getting ready."

Vilkas abruptly stood and was storming towards the bridal suite like a hurricane before he knew what he was doing. His hands clenched and unclenched as he positively vibrated with fury. He was going to find the Breton and force her to end the engagement. He would not be calling that dreadful girl "sister". Not ever!

Vilkas made a sharp left after passing the alter and spotted the door that said "Bride" on it. Vilkas neared the door with a manic glint in his wild silver eyes, drawn to her like a shark was drawn to blood. His face twisted into something that was a cross between a smile and a sneer as one thought raced across his mind…

The bride was in for one rude awakening.

Vilkas barged into the room, slamming the door shut behind him, fully prepared to fight the Harbinger of the Companions if he had too in order to protect his brother.

But Vilkas didn't find the Harbinger in the room, instead he found a young woman sitting at a wooden vanity with her long flowing, golden locks spilling down the length of her back. The woman turned her head and met his gaze. Vilkas' breath caught in his chest as he stared into the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. They were large and expressive and a dark, rich shade of green that sparkled like two emerald gemstones fringed with long black lashes. Those captivating green eyes were set in a small pixyish face with soft tiny features, porcelain skin, a button nose, and full pink lips. She was… more beautiful than beautiful.

Vilkas noticed the lute resting on the vanity and realized she was a bard, probably there to play music during the ceremony. "Sorry, bard. I thought this was the bride's room," Vilkas said as he stepped backwards towards the door.

The pretty blonde laughed a soft and gentle bell-like laugh that was purely genuine and uninhibited. The sound caused Vilkas to pause in his retreat. "I wouldn't say I was a bard. I just joined the Bard's College a few days ago. I was trying to figure out how to play this retched instrument, but I don't think I was ever meant to wield it."

Vilkas nodded. "Sorry for disturbing you. Excuse me."

"Vilkas… do you not recognize me?" The woman said as she stood, her lithe figure and feminine curves accentuated by the simple, demure, white silk dress that she wore, the thin straps exposing an ample amount of creamy, ivory skin. No scars marred her skin and she lacked the muscle definition every warrior had. Soft, that's what she was.

Vilkas shook his head as he racked his brain for any memory of her, but he was coming up empty. "I'm sorry. I don't think we've ever-"

"It's me… Faye."

His heart stopped. "Faye?"

Vilkas stood gaping at her. It was impossible. It couldn't be her. This woman could not be the Harbinger of the Companions, the woman he's loathed for months.

Faye smiled at him then and Vilkas' chest tightened in response to it.

Her smile was like a breath of spring.

Vilkas quickly forced himself to remember who exactly this woman was. Even though her face and body revealed nothing but transcendent beauty, it merely concealed the corroded remains of her black heart. She was still the soulless bitch who was responsible for Skjor's death, for Kodlak's death, for the war now raging against the Silver Hand, for stealing away his right to Sovngarde, and for inevitably ruining the Companions and his brother's life. With those dark, spiteful thoughts rolling around in his brain, Vilkas' admiring gaze slowly darkened and twisted, transforming into a savage glare that was reserved for his worst enemies.

"Ah, there it is," Faye uttered with a small, sad smile. "I was wondering where your glare went. You've never looked at me without it. I almost didn't recognize you. Especially in those clothes your wearing."

Vilkas' hands curled into fists at his sides and he strode over to her like a man hell bent on vengeance, his jaw locked like a vice, his lips curled back from his teeth in a feral snarl. "I will _not_ let you marry my brother!"

She blinked. "Why not?"

"Because he deserves a whole hell of a lot better than you!" Vilkas bellowed.

Her eyes fell to the floor and her voice was soft and somber as she answered, "I know he deserves better than me."

Vilkas stopped in his tracks, taken aback by her words. "Then stop this."

"I... I can't." She looked up at him with a wholly vulnerable expression. "I love him, Vilkas. You're brother is the most important person in my life. I know he can do better than me, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be the woman he deserves." Faye sighed miserably. "Look, Vilkas, I know you despise me. You always have. But I'm going to be apart of your family after today. And I hope that... I hope we can be friends."

"I could never be friends with someone like _you_," Vilkas hissed.

Faye looked away with a sullen pout. "I figured you'd say that. I know you have several... _issues_ with me." Vilkas snorted and Faye ignored it. "So, I tried to alleviate them as best as I could. I know I have a long way to go, but I hope that they'll at least ease some of the tension between us."

Vilkas crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down with his most ferocious glare, and rumbled, "Most unlikely."

Faye clasped her hands in front of her body and nervously bit her lip. "First of all, I'm sorry for not being there to protect Jorrvaskr when the Silver Hand attacked. Kodlak's death was my fault. I should have been there. And I wasn't. If I had... things might have turned out differently."

Vilkas grunted, unmoved by her words.

"Secondly, I'm sorry for taking the beast-blood. No one told me the effects it would have on my soul. If I had known, I would have refused it."

His eyes tightened. "So why did you accept it?"

She blushed an appealing shade of red. "I... just wanted to fit in."

He scoffed, "An idiotic reason to become a raging, soulless beast."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm a stupid girl. I'm very well aware. You've made that perfectly clear. Multiple times."

Vilkas shrugged. "At least you're aware of your faults."

"Anyways," Faye said through gritted teeth as she tried to rein in her temper. "I'm sorry for Skjor. We attacked the Silver Hand that night because of me. Aela convinced me to seek revenge. I knew it was stupid and would only lead to more bloodshed, but she was my friend and she was hurting and it seemed the only way to ease her pain. It didn't, of course, it only made things worse." She shook her head dejectedly. "I make the worst decisions."

Vilkas growled, "And yet _you_ are our Harbinger."

Faye groaned. "I know. I don't know what Kodlak was thinking. It should have been you. Everybody knows that." She turned those large jade eyes on him. "So, I called a meeting yesterday and put it to a vote. It was unanimous. Every Companion, including myself, believes _you_ are the true Harbinger. And so... you are." The corner of her lips pulled up. "Congratulations, Harbinger."

Vilkas blinked and slowly unfolded his arms. _He_ was the new Harbinger? And he had the full support of his family?

"Oh, and I realize that we wouldn't be at war with the Silver Hand if it wasn't for me. So, as my last act of Harbinger, I contacted the leader of the Thieves Guild, he's an old friend, and had him send out every thief in his guild to search every inch of Skyrim and locate every Silver Hand base. I then called in a few favors and hired the Dark Brotherhood to eliminate them, wiping out the Silver Hand for good." Vilkas opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. "I don't condone death on such a large scale either, but the members of the Silver Hand are sadistic bastards that get their kicks off of torturing others. They deserve to be wiped out," she hissed venomously, her voice ringing with ardor as flames danced across the green fields of her eyes.

Vilkas' eyes widened. He'd never seen such passion from her. The fire it brought to her eyes... it was enticing.

Faye continued, "The Dark Brotherhood gets a big kill that will improve their reputation, and in return they'll spread the message around Skyrim that anyone who kills werewolves will be eliminated as well. That way the Silver Hand can never be rebuilt."

Vilkas grunted, acknowledging her words, and though his expression was impassive, his mind was reeling. He was trying not to let those leafy-green eyes or her seemingly sincere words get to him, but he was failing miserably. Vilkas was starting to have trouble matching this woman with the wench he had in his mind.

"And finally... I know how much reaching Sovngarde means to you. When I attacked the witches, I did so without a plan, thinking it would be a walk in the park." She shook her head, expression grim, as angry and regretful tears pricked her eyes. "I was reckless and stupid, over eager to deliver a cure to you." She visibly swallowed. "...and Farkas," she added as an afterthought. "I killed the first witch without trying to be stealthy, and the spiders the witches kept as pets alerted the others to my presence. With both the witches and the spiders attacking me at once... I wasn't strong enough to defeat them." Faye dug her palms into her eyelids to fight the tears that wished to fall. She would _not_ cry in front of Vilkas. He already thought her worthless and weak.

Vilkas sighed heavily and averted his gaze from the tearful woman. "The witches are gone. There's no use wallowing over it now."

Faye took a deep breath and wiped her eyes before looking up at him. "The guilt that I felt - stealing away your redemption - it ate away at me. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. I knew I had to do something to set things right."

Steel-colored eyes flickered to her. "What are you talking about?"

"I searched for the witches. I searched and searched, until finally I found them, with a little help from a... friend. This time I attacked with a plan and others at my side."

Faye walked over to the window where her pack sat on the floor beside a large grey sack. She picked up the sack and approached him. "Here," she said, holding the sack out to him.

"What's this?" Vilkas inquired as he took the sack that was surprisingly heavy.

With a small smile she replied, "The rest of the witches' heads."

His eyes flew wide open. "What?!"

"I already used one to cure myself. Farkas has one as well, but he hasn't used it yet. He said he wanted to cure himself with you at his side. The rest are for you and Aela. If you wish for a shield-sister to accompany you when you fight your inner wolf, I'd be more than happy to help you."

Vilkas stared down at the sack of salvation in his hand, dumbstruck. "But... you... why...?"

Her voice came out gentle and brimming with sincerity. "I couldn't live with myself knowing I'd damned your soul and everybody else's to be claimed by Hircine. I had to atone for my failures." Her emerald eyes became soft and open, unbelievably honest. "Every soul deserves redemption, Vilkas. Especially yours."

Vilkas blinked at her. That was all he was able to do. His words were lodged in his throat and his mind was tangled in knots. As Faye tucked a golden lock of hair demurely behind her ear, Vilkas realized he knew nothing about this woman and had labeled her wrongly from the moment he'd met her. "You have a heart," Vilkas finally managed to utter in a low, deep voice. "How come I've never seen it before?"

Faye smiled softly, her cheeks blushing. "I know I tend to... keep myself hidden. I've been doing it for so long that it's just become a part of who I am."

The two fell silent as they continued to stare at each other. The Breton was nervous, praying that Vilkas would accept her apology. Whereas the Nord was trying desperately to hang onto the image of a villain he'd painted of her in his mind. Because if she wasn't the villain he'd always made her out to be, then... then he'd made a terrible mistake. Not only for treating her more harshly than he should have, but for ruining any friendship they could've had. He came in here ready for a fight, but now he was as tranquil as a forest. Something about her calmed him, tamed the beast inside of him, yet stirred him in a way he hadn't expected.

Vilkas slowly placed the sack on the ground. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but..." Vilkas approached her and tried to ignore the way her closeness made his pulse race. "I wish you'd let yourself be seen more often." A rare smile that was positively devastating formed on his lips as he placed a gentle hand on her upper arm. "Because you are... one of the most exquisite things I've ever seen. I'm sorry for misjudging you."

Faye's eyebrows flew up into her hairline at his words, and she suppressed the shiver that wished to run down her spine from his warm touch on her bare skin. "Thank you, Vilkas. That was... very kind of you to say." Faye fidgeted with her hands when his fingers began to idly trace little circles on her skin causing knots to form in her stomach. "I know I have a long way to go to gain your friendship, but I hope this means we're on the right path towards it. I know Farkas will be overjoyed to see us getting along."

Vilkas' smile slowly faded from his lips. "Farkas..." He muttered under his breath, and quickly pulled his hand from her flesh as if it had burned him.

_Shit! ShitShitShit! I was just hitting on my brother's fiancé! She's wearing the fucking wedding dress! What the hell is wrong with me! _Vilkas' mind screamed at him. He swallowed hard and looked around the room awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with the blonde as he mentally berated himself.

"Ummm, I was about to have a glass of wine to help settle my nervous." He heard her melodic voice utter. "Would you like to join me?"

Vilkas looked at her and, for some reason even he couldn't fathom, he nodded. Faye smiled up at him and his chest tightened again at the sight of it.

_Shor's blood_, Vilkas inwardly groaned. _I'm in trouble_.

Vilkas shook his head as he headed for the small table at the back of the room that was separated two black armchairs. He fell into one of the armchairs while Faye put her lute on the floor and picked up a bottle of Black-Briar Reserve and two wine glasses off the vanity. She approached him, her svelte figure flowing with her graceful movements, her hips swaying slightly in the white silk that hugged her slight feminine curves. By the time she stopped in front of him Vilkas' mouth was dry and a large lump was lodged in his throat.

_Damn, how come I've never noticed the way she moved before?_ Vilkas frowned at his thoughts. _Because she didn't want anyone to notice her. That's why she wore that damn hood all the time._

Faye placed both glasses on the small table and leaned over to pour them each a full glass. His gaze fell to the view she had unknowingly given him of her full supple breasts under the white silk, and Vilkas felt himself twitch in response. He couldn't help it. She was entirely too desirable for him to ignore.

His gaze snapped to her face when she handed him a glass and sat with her own in the other chair beside him. The two relaxed in their respective chairs, sipping their wine, though there was a tension in the air that they both felt.

"Thank you for coming to the wedding, Vilkas," Faye said quietly around her glass, trying to break the nearly suffocating tension. "I feared you wouldn't attend."

Vilkas grimaced and took a hefty swallow. "I wouldn't miss my twin's wedding."

"Have you seen him yet?"

"No."

Faye chuckled. "That might be a good thing. This morning, Ria told me how they all took Farkas out to celebrate last night, and that Torvar and Njada got him completely drunk. Ria said she and Athis looked after him, but that he has a horrible hangover." Her smile turned from one of amusement to one of affection as she uttered, "Poor Farkas. I hope he's okay."

Vilkas grinned slightly. "I know my brother. It'll have passed by now."

Faye nodded, not sure what else to say. They continued to drink wordlessly as the tension escalated. After a few minutes and another refill, Vilkas turned his head and looked at Faye, studying her profile. He then asked the one question he'd been dying to ask her for some time now. "Tell me, why did you join the Companions?"

Faye sipped her wine, pondering his question. "Well... you see... I know I'm not the strongest warrior..."

Vilkas scoffed. "That's an understatement."

Faye rolled her eyes. "Okay, barely a warrior. I admit it. Look, I was raised in the life of a thief, and so those are the skills I have. I can pick any lock with my eyes closed, sneak into any location undetected, lift a man's wedding ring without him even noticing... but I don't know how to kill." She snorted. "And why would I? I'm not part of the Dark Brotherhood." She exhaled heavily. "But _now_ I'm supposed to fight dragons. Dragons!" Her head fell into her hand as if the mere memory that she was Dragonborn brought her nothing but grief. "A thief as a dragon slayer," she mumbled into her palm, "some god has a horrible sense of humor."

Vilkas leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, you came to us to learn how to handle a blade? I can understand that. But why then turn down Athis when he offered to help you?"

She gave him a quizzical look. "Because I'm no good with a blade. I'm only good with a bow. Didn't you know that? I had Aela teach me in archery. I've gotten better with her help. We meet at night to practice before she hunts."

_So that explained her sneaking out at night_, Vilkas thought. He rubbed his jaw. "But you could've gone to any expert archer to learn how to use a bow. Why the Companions?"

Faye didn't respond. She simply watched her finger as it drew little circles on her silk covered thigh. "As the Dragonborn, I'm supposed to be this big hero, someone who is strong, fearless, and righteous. A leader people can follow, an idol they can aspire too, a champion they can place their hope in." Large, emerald eyes flickered to him. "And when I think of someone like that... I think of the Companions. I think of someone like you."

He tilted his head to the side, probing her face. "You don't think of yourself?"

She laughed. "Hell no. I'm beaten most of the time, terrified stiff the rest. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm mostly just trying to survive, and barely able to succeed at that."

Vilkas leaned back in his chair and lifted his glass to his lips before mumbling, "You're not as bad as you think."

Faye blushed at the compliment, shocked really, especially from the person offering it. Discreetly, she lifted one hand to her now flaming cheek. She was supposed to be settling her nerves, not agitating them further. How was he able to get under her skin and bother her so? And Vilkas just sat there, not a nerve out of place, while hers were fraying at the seams. Gods, she needed another drink.

Faye abruptly stood and quickly refilled both their glasses. Her thin white strap slid off her shoulder, and the coy image of her stirred Vilkas' loins. Oblivious to his sudden craving to run his fingertips along her collarbone, Faye slipped the white strap back onto her shoulder and picked her glass up and sat back in her chair. She brought the glass to her lips and sipped slowly. Her expression slowly became dark and morose, her green eyes cloudy. "What are you thinking about?" Vilkas asked warily as he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

"So, you and Aela?" Faye asked quickly without looking at him, Vilkas's last words barely out of his mouth, her voice as tight as her eyes.

Vilkas tried to read her expression, but he couldn't. Her guard was up. Apprehensively, he replied, "What about us?"

"Will you two be the next to marry?" She laughed but it was a brittle sound and terribly forced. "Everyone had bets on you two getting engaged before Farkas and I. Let's just say there were a lot of unhappy betters when I accepted Farkas' proposal at the Bannered Mare."

"How did Farkas propose?" Vilkas asked, genuinely curious but also hoping she'd get distracted and forget about her question.

"Oh, that's right. You weren't there," she said pleasantly, but Vilkas picked up on the hint of hurt and resentment in her voice. "Let's see, Farkas picked me up, causing me to spill my mead all over the two of us. He sat me on his knee and said, 'You and me. Forever. How bout it?'" Faye giggled. "And I said yes."

Vilkas blinked. "By the Nine, that was terrible."

She gawked at him. "No it wasn't. It was sweet."

He rubbed his forehead. "By Talos, my brother should have come to me first. I could've given him something much better to say."

Faye gave him a pointed look. "Don't be angry with Farkas for not coming to you beforehand. His brother hated his girlfriend. What did you expect him to do?"

Vilkas cringed slightly and mumbled, "Aye."

They continued to drink quietly, each lost in their own thoughts, until Faye's gentle voice broke the silence. "What would you have said?"

Vilkas looked at her with furrowed brows. "Huh?"

Faye didn't look at him, but Vilkas could see the blush on her cheeks as she clarified, "You said you would've given Farkas something better to say. What would you have said?"

Vilkas thought for a moment. "Well... I would have told him _not_ to propose at the Bannered Mare." Faye chuckled and Vilkas grinned slightly at the sound. "I would have told him to take you somewhere nice, somewhere romantic, somewhere special."

She was looking at him now with large, open green eyes, hanging on his every word. "What else?"

Unconsciously, his voice dropped to a low, husky whisper, "I would've told him to buy a ring - a gold one with emeralds to match your eyes."

Vilkas saw her swallow as she placed her elbow on the table between then and lean into him. "What else?" Her voice was as low and soft and lovely as a bard singing a lullaby to a child.

Vilkas leaned into her as well, his arm resting on the table next to hers. "I would have... put the ring on your finger and watched the way it lit up your face." She smiled at that, one that seemed to brighten the whole room, and his fingers itched to touch her. "Then I would have... touched your cheek as I looked into your eyes..." Vilkas gave into the itch and cupped her heated cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin as he looked deep into those captivating jade orbs. "...and told you that you were the sun that my world revolved around. That you were the one thing I couldn't live without. That a life without you, as my wife, would be meaningless."

As his fingertips stroked her cheekbone, Faye tried to ignore the way his intense gaze made her melt and the way his touch caused her pulse to race, but she couldn't ignore the way her body stirred to life as the tension between them tightened and expanded, building into something new.

As he caressed her skin, Vilkas watched her eyes dampen and shimmer as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Talos, she was lovely. Realizing what he was doing, he quickly pulled his hand away from her cheek and ran it through his messy ebony hair. "I don't know... something like that," he muttered, trying to shake off his desire.

Faye was frozen in place. After a few seconds, she came back to herself and sat back in her chair, looking blankly inscrutable. After several silent moments, she finally uttered, "That was... very lovely, Vilkas." There was a sharp edge to her voice, and her lips were turned down at the corners. "I'm sure Aela will love it."

Vilkas' eyes snapped to her face and he quickly replied, "I didn't say-"

"Snowberry?" Faye offered hastily as she grabbed the bowl of fruit off the table and shoved it in his face, cutting him off.

Vilkas frowned, remembering how she'd done something similar before with a sweet roll. He shook his head, declining the fruit.

The girl shrugged her shoulders and plucked one small, red fruit from the bowl and brought it to her pink lips. Her mouth opened and closed around the ripe fruit, her lips puckering as she chewed slowly. Vilkas was suddenly envious of a piece of fruit that he'd stepped on numerous times on his way to Winterhold. Faye's eyelids fluttered shut and she released a soft moan as she chewed the delectable fruit, that just so happened to be her favorite. Vilkas watched enraptured as she slowly licked her lips, sucking all the juice into her mouth. He shifted awkwardly in his seat as his pants suddenly became uncomfortably tight.

Gods, how could he want her this much? Hadn't he hated her? Hadn't he loathed her? How could everything have been flipped over so quickly? Maybe it was because she was stunning, or just something he couldn't have, or maybe it was because she was his brother's and they've each wanted what the other had ever since they were pups. Or maybe it was because he never really hated her, just misunderstood her, but never realized it until now. Vilkas bit the inside of his cheek. Whatever the reason, he had to control these dark and twisted desires that were coursing through him. Nothing good would come of them.

Faye watched the multitude of expressions running across Vilkas' face. She saw confusion, shame, and something else she didn't comprehend that darkened his eyes. That last look frightened her. She'd always been inexplicably drawn to Vilkas, like a burglar to a jewel. He was gorgeous and strong, virtuous and honorable, fierce as a sabre cat in battle, and had the brains of Ysgramor. But there was something else about him that pulled at her heart. There was a fire in him that burned as bright and hot as the sun. A fire that seemed to fan the flames of passion within her own heart until she felt it melt within her chest just by looking at him.

In the beginning, she'd tried to speak with him, to get closer to him. But he'd always push her away, wanting nothing to do with her. When she saw him with Aela, she knew she had to get over the stupid crush she'd developed for him. She forced herself to accept that he hated her, would always hate her, and that any sort of relationship she wanted for them would never be. So, she moved on, and thankfully found someone who did notice her.

But now Vilkas was looking at her in such a way that seemed to light a flame under her heart once again. Why did he have to look at her like that when it was too late? Why did he notice her only now when she was already promised to another, to his brother no less? Couldn't he see how that look was killing her, making her wish for things that could never be?

Needing him to leave now, right now, Faye quickly stood and put her glass on the table and said, "Well, I think it's time for me to put on my veil and finish getting ready."

After being slightly stunned at her sudden and peculiar behavior, Vilkas stood and put his glass down as well.

Faye turned to face him. "Thank you, Vilkas, for speaking with me and for accepting my apology." Her slender arms went around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Vilkas stiffened before slowly relaxing and letting his arms encircle her to return the embrace. Faye couldn't help herself and breathed in his masculine, woodsy scent. It was a tantalizing combination of pine trees, dry leaves, and forest fire. She had to force herself not to burying her nose in his clothes and breath more of him in.

Vilkas heard her sigh softly against his chest and his grip involuntarily tightened on her. She was so small and warm, so soft and delicate, so utterly feminine. Gods, he wanted her badly. The mere scent of her skin was driving him made with desire. What was it about her that affected him so? Whatever it was, it was no good for either of them.

Faye slowly pulled away from him and Vilkas found himself staring transfixed across the small space between them at the Dragonborn's slightly parted lips. The things he wanted to hear coming from that sweet little mouth. He wanted his name falling from those pink lips over and over again as he brought her to her peak.

As his silver eyes dropped and became fixated on her mouth, looking like a wolf that literally wanted to eat her, Faye felt the change in the atmosphere around them immediately. It felt as if there was this electric current pulsing between them, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Why was he looking at her like that? What was going through his mind? He had Aela and she had Farkas. She was over him, had moved on, was getting married. So why did she have the sudden urge to touch him again and take in more of his scent?

"What?!" Faye abruptly blurted out, unable to stand another second of his intense staring.

"I was just thinking…" Irresistibly impelled, Vilkas lifted his hand to cup her face. His thumb brushed across her soft cheek before sliding down her smooth neck to her shoulder leaving goosebumps in its wake. His rough, callused hand then rounded her shoulder and moved slowly down her arm, his fingernails trailing lightly over her skin. The words left his mouth unbidden in a gravelly whisper before he could even think to reel them in, "Why do you hide you face?" He leaned towards her, their breaths mingling, his eyes intent on hers. "Especially when it could steal the breath of any man who's eyes fell upon it."

Faye's heart sped up at the sound of his voice, so decadent and rich that it was a sin. His eyes were hooded, their intent wholly hidden from her, but he was studying her with such overwhelming intensity that she had to bite down hard on her lower lip to stop it from quivering as her stomach fluttered. This was… wrong. Her betrothed's brother shouldn't be looking at her like that or making her stomach flutter the way it was.

"I think you should leave," Faye muttered before taking a step back.

Vilkas' hand shot out and grasped her wrist to keep her from retreating entirely. Faye started from the sudden movement and from the feel of electricity running up her arm, leaving her skin tingling under his touch. She forced her gaze to the ground and whispered, "Vilkas…" His hold on her wrist only tightened at the sound of her voice. "…please… let go of me."

After a moment's hesitation, Vilkas did as she asked and released her wrist. Faye's fingers rubbed over the skin he had touched as she collected herself and forced her breathing to steady. "Thank you, Vilkas, for your visit. Now, if you don't mind, I have to finish getting ready for my wedding." Faye didn't even wait for his reply as she was already heading for the door. She yanked on the handle and held it open for him, watching him, waiting for him to leave her alone.

Vilkas stared at the open door and felt a strange sense of panic settle in. The sinking feeling he'd felt when she'd stopped talking to him was back again, but this time it was so much worse. He felt like she was slipping away from him and it left a hollowing ache in his gut. It suddenly felt like he would never see her again, like everything would be permanently changed for the worse the moment he walked through that door. His breathing became erratic as a nameless fear took hold of him, a desperation that he didn't recognize.

_It's because you want her for your own_, a voice whispered in his mind. _She's not for you. She's your brother's. Not yours. Not for you_, he scolded himself. _But she was yours first_, the wicked voice whispered back. _She was interested in you first. She spent all her time with you and no one else. She was jealous when you slept with Aela. She wanted you. Maybe she still wants you. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe she can still be yours_.

Faye watched as a dark and fervent expression slowly took hold of Vilkas' features. That look… it practically ignited every nerve in her body. Her grip tightened on the door handle when he slowly walked towards her, his aura leonine - all feral and predatory. Watching him move that way sent a trill down her spine in the most basic way - she was a prey animal recognizing a predator.

Vilkas stopped directly in front of her and Faye's heart was pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it. Vilkas slowly leaned in towards her and Faye's breath hitched as he brought his face inches from her own, his piercing eyes never leaving hers. Faye jumped when she felt his large warm hand on top of hers as he slowly pushed the door until it closed with a soft click.

Hard pangs of lust were shooting through Vilkas as he stood so close to her he could feel the heat of her body, smell the scent of her skin, hear her uneven breathing, and feel her hot breath on his face. His every sense was alive and filled with her, and he felt his groin surging with undeniable heat. He should go. He should leave before he did something stupid, something really stupid. Something he couldn't take back. But Vilkas was struggling with the beast inside of him that was howling and clawing at his insides with the want of her.

"Vilkas?" Faye's voice wavered with trepidation and uncertainty.

Vilkas slowly straightened to stand at his full height, towering over her small figure. His hand slowly fell away from hers, though it still tingled from the heat of his touch. Faye drew in sharp, jagged breaths as she stared up at his handsome face - his dark chiseled features, strong masculine jawline, full lips, and those silver eyes that were so severe and so striking against the black war paint that they shone like a full moon on a dark, cloudless night.

Vilkas turned his chin and slowly dragged his eyes away from hers to stare at the now closed door. "Do you really want me too?" His deep, velvety voice was slick with lust and slithered down her backbone like melted honey.

"W-What?"

"Leave." His smoldering eyes shifted to meet hers and bore into her, the heat in them so intense that she felt herself melting under his molten gaze. "Because I don't think you do. I think you want me to stay."

Her blood ran cold as the fear of being discovered crept down her spine like a cube of ice. "Why… why would I want that?"

His lips quirked into a wicked, knowing smirk. "Because you've wanted nothing but my attention since the moment you met me."

Faye's heart hammered away in her chest. "I… I wanted to know you."

His head tilted, silver eyes searching hers. "So why didn't you?"

She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Because you couldn't stand me."

Vilkas moved closer to her, a lock of ebony hair falling to overshadow his eyes. "Do you still want to _know_ me, Faye?"

She gulped. "N-No."

His eyes tightened. "Don't lie to me. I've seen the way you look at me."

"I-I… I don't look… I…" Her voice cracked, betraying her, and it slowly faded out until there was nothing left but uneasy silence.

With a dark glint in his eyes, Vilkas snaked his arms around her small waist, bringing her closer to him until her soft curves were pressed firmly against his hard frame. The blood rushed to Faye's cheeks when Vilkas bent his head to leisurely run the tip of his nose along the full length of her neck, from her shoulder up to her ear. Faye shivered in spite of herself as his hot breath fanned against the sensitive skin of her throat. Vilkas breathed her in. She smelled of spring - green grass, rain, and wildflowers. It was… intoxicating. Once he reached her ear, his mouth hovered over it. "When I look at you… something inside of me moves," he confessed in a whisper, his voice smooth yet gritty, and dripping with desire. "Something in me wants you, Faye. Badly. Uncontrollably."

Vilkas pulled back slowly to look at her, his eyes on her like they had been placed in his skull solely for that purpose. Faye felt a trembling along her skin as he dragged his thumb roughly along her bottom lip, pushing her lips apart before tearing at them ravenously with his mouth. His kiss was hard and almost punishing, robbing the breath from her lungs and causing her body to burn with an engulfing heat that left her feeling as if she'd stepped into a firestorm.

"Gods, you taste good," Vilkas groaned softly against her lips before moving in for another taste of her. She tasted like wine and snowberries and something else entirely her. Needing more of her, Vilkas ran his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened for him. He explored the contours of her mouth, running his tongue over hers in a gentle caress. A part of him thrilled when she pressed her body pliantly against his. Urged on by her response, his hands started roaming restlessly over her body, her curves warm and soft under his palms. Gods, he was already so hard and needful.

A disturbing warmth flared to life deep within her from the undeniable pleasure she was experiencing from the feel of his tongue and his calloused hands on her body. The warmth radiated throughout her until her knees felt on the verge of buckling. No one had ever kissed her like this before. Hell, she'd only been kissed once before, and it was nothing like this. But a tiny voice inside of her head was screaming for her to stop, to think, to remember Farkas. Through the fog of desire that had clouded her mind and gripped her body, Faye dazedly managed to bring her hands to his chest and shoved him away from her, letting out an exasperated cry and gasping for air. Vilkas groaned with a strained sound that almost echoed like pain as he stumbled back.

"What in Oblivion are you doing?!" Faye exclaimed, panting, still trying to catch her breath and gather her wits. His dark eyebrows drew up and together in confusion and Faye could hear his own breaths leaving him in the form of fierce jerks of his shoulders. "What's gotten into you? I'm getting married today! TO YOUR BROTHER!"

Vilkas didn't seem to hear her. His silver eyes dropped from her eyes to focus on her mouth, and before she could even blink, he launched himself at her, his mouth hot against hers. His arm created an inescapable snare around her waist as his lips stroked hers in a brutal caress.

Faye pressed her palms against his chest, trying to tear herself away, but the wave of emotion and want that crashed over her was so utterly overwhelming that she could do nothing but let it wash over her and consume her. Soon any good sense she had left was lost to the searing heat of his kiss and she slowly went limp in his arms, surrendering to him completely, allowing herself to drown in the sensations he was evoking in her.

As if waiting for her capitulation, Vilkas pulled her closer to him, his breath coming in a wild gasp as his fingers knotted in her golden locks, clutching her to him. Faye's mouth opened beneath his own, allowing his tongue access to its warm recesses, allowing him to invade her in a thorough and dominating pattern.

Faye closed her eyes, savoring the taste of him, the texture of his skin under her fingers, the faint rasp of stubble against her cheeks as Vilkas kissed her wildly, fiercely, uninhibitedly. With both of her palms pressed against his chest, she could feel how hard and toned he was - all firm muscle and dormant strength. It called to everything female in her. It made her body flush, and the place between her legs dampen and throb.

Vilkas broke the kiss. "You don't want him, Faye," he taunted against the shell of her ear, his voice low and flanging. "It's _me_ you want. I can smell your arousal. You want me just as much as I want you."

At his words, Faye felt panic beginning to flood her body, washing away the traces of desire that had been building inside of her. "Stop…" she muttered, but his mouth continued to kiss and nip along her collarbone. "Vilkas… don't…" The Dragonborn's palms pressed firmly against the Companion's chest and shoved as hard as she could. "I SAID STOP!"

Faye turned from him and moved numbly to the vanity, the back of her hand pressed against her kiss-bitten lips. She placed her shaking hands on the vanity, her head hanging limply on her neck. She couldn't look in the mirror. She couldn't stand the sight of herself right now. He was her fiance's twin brother! How could she let this happen? This was a mistake. A horrible, terrible mistake. Her fingernails dug into the wood of the vanity. She loved Farkas. How could she kiss Vilkas on her wedding day? What kind of person was she? Maybe she really was the horrible person Vilkas had always said she was. Maybe she really was a monster.

Vilkas grabbed her suddenly from behind and yanked her against him, her back slamming into the solid and unyielding wall of his chest, one hand on her stomach holding her to him. Faye went rigid as a plank, her hands balled into fists at her sides, her breathing erratic. The embrace had more of a furious need to it than affection, his arms strung so tightly around her that she could hardly breath.

"Why are you marrying him?" Vilkas rasped, his words no more than a strained growl in her ear. His free hand fisted in her hair and tugged sharply to the side, exposing her neck to him. She gasped when his mouth latched onto her flesh, the hand on her stomach holding her still as he began kissing and nipping down the side of her neck. Faye's heart raced wildly in her chest as his mouth unerringly found the pulse at her throat, and licked it. Her eyelids fluttered shut when his other hand slid up her body to cup her breast. She let out a stuttering breath as he rolled her nipple expertly between his fingers. Her head fell to the side limply in response to the feel of his mouth on her neck and his hands on her body.

"Is it because he looks like me?" His voice was dark and grating, his hot breath falling heavily across her skin. Before she could respond, his hand tightened around a fistful of her hair and wrenched, twisting her neck to reconcile his hunger for her skin. "Is that why you bought him that wolf armor, the exact kind I wear, and made him wear it?"

Vilkas tore his mouth from her neck and spun her around. He surged up against her, ramming his hips into hers, effectively pinning her to the vanity with his body. He snatched her chin and lifted it sharply, forcing her to meet his hard gaze. "You like to pretend it's me when you're with him, don't you?"

Faye's knees felt weak, her breathing shallow, as she forced herself to hold his intense gaze. She spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable separately, "I'm getting married."

His eyes flashed and a low rumbling growl echoed in his chest. "To someone you wish was me!"

Her mouth opened and his hand caught her face, and he swallowed her breath in a coarse and biting kiss, forcing her lips apart with his tongue. He wanted to show her that he meant something to her. Wanted her to accept that she felt something for him. Wanted her to think of no one but him. Dammit, he wanted her to want him!

As his mouth devoured hers, his skillful tongue wreaking havoc on her senses, Faye felt a heat began to spread out from her chest in pulsing waves. She hated the way he affected her. Hated how much she wanted him, had always wanted him. Hated the way she couldn't resist him. Deep within her, something dark and disturbing, stirred to life. Instinctively, her mouth opened against his and she pushed herself mercilessly forward, her hands fisting in his dark locks. The involuntary reaction was shocking in its fervor, even in its existence. She felt more than heard him groan in response to her unexpected enthusiasm and immediately felt his teeth dig into her bottom lip as he pulled at her waist like he wanted to pull her clear inside of him. He was leading her into something dark and carnal, and she was following after him willingly.

His fingers dug painfully into the small of her back when she rubbed herself against him, needing to ease some of the ache between her legs. She felt the hard ridge of him, prodding and insistent against her belly, and a monsoon of panic was released within her. It was clear what Vilkas wanted from her. He wanted what she'd never given anyone in her entire life. Faye abruptly tore her mouth from his and uttered, "We can't…" Silver eyes lifted to meet hers, the confusion in them evident. "He'll know," she explained urgently. "He knows I've never… he knows I'm a… he'll know..." Her forehead fell against his and she breathed out, "We can't. We just… can't."

Breathing heavily, he pressed his forehead back against hers and looked deep into her jade eyes that were brimming with unshed tears and unbridled desire. "I've never felt anything like this, Faye. I've never wanted anybody as much as I want you." His deep, silky voice slid over her like liquid sin. "You swim in my blood now. I have to have you. Consequences be damned."

Faye pulled back to stare up at the Nord. So fiercely ardent was the look in his smoldering silver eyes that she flinched under their unrelenting intensity. She knew this was wrong, but the passion had been fanned and denied for so long that she found she could no longer control her longing for him.

Vilkas watched the war of emotions in her leafy green eyes and waited as patiently as he could for her answer. After a few moments of silence, the conflict in her eyes faded and was instantly replaced with a severe determination. Slowly, her small hand rose between them and brushed a stray lock of his hair from his eyes, and the next words she spoke were the end of whatever sanity he still had left. "You're right. You're right about everything," she whispered, her voice soft like summer rain, her green eyes shimmering into his. "I've always wanted you, Vilkas." Her voice caught on his name. "Gods forgive me, I want you to make me yours."

Hearing the words he so desperately wanted to hear, Vilkas moved like a viper, quick and unpredictable. He hauled her up to his level, his mouth on hers, hard and demanding, his hands carefully cradling her face between them. His kiss bled the confusion and guilt from her very soul. Faye's hands curled into his tunic, pulling him closer, mashing her breasts into his chest as she returned his kiss ardently like a lost soul desperate for redemption. She gave everything she had, everything she was, into the kiss as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

Vilkas tore away from the kiss, drawing back to breath, a rare and genuine smile on his face. "Good."

Faye opened her mouth to reply, but he caught her jaw and pulled her back in, his mouth hot against hers, tearing the breath from her lungs. Her body wilted weakly into his fervent kiss, her hands going to his shoulders to help steady herself. The muscles of his shoulders were hard as iron under her palms. A small groan escaped him between the first and second meeting of their mouths that sent heat and yearning rushing through her veins.

They were both lost then, driven mindless with lust. The rest of the world suddenly didn't exist. Nothing else mattered but this moment, but them. There was no turning back now. And they both knew it, as surely as they knew that it would change everything.

"Just once," Faye breathed against his lips, two tears spilling from her eyes. "Just once."

At her words, Vilkas kissed her harder, his hands roaming her body with a near animalistic kind of urgency as he tried to sketch every detail of her into his memory. He only had this one time with her. He would never allow himself to forget it. His hands roughly squeezed the backs of her thighs and lifted her up, dropping her unceremoniously on the vanity. He moved forward, shoving her legs apart, pressing his hips firmly against hers.

"Just once," she uttered again as Vilkas pressed a tender kiss to her temple, her eyelids, her chin, every inch of skin he could reach. Her arms went around his neck and she breathed in his ear, "Just this once."

His large hands moved swiftly down her body, his fingers pushing her dress up to bunch around her waist. Faye gasped when his fingers slipped under the hem of her panties and tore them away from her flesh so he could get to what he wanted. Vilkas groaned with desperate need when he cupped her sex, feeling how unbelievably hot and wet she already was for him. He stroked her gently, dragging a slight tremor and a low throaty moan out of her, the sound traveling right to his throbbing groin. Vilkas growled and tore at the laces of his pants, freeing his aching erection.

Faye's eyes fell to his length and her eyes widened with anxiety and uncertainty. He was big… too big. Faye immediately became uneasy and distressed about this whole thing. Perhaps Nords weren't supposed to become intimate with Bretons. Maybe they weren't… compatible. But her troubled thoughts flew out of her mind when Vilkas leaned down to capture her mouth. Her lips parted beneath his and he slid his tongue inside to stroke over her own, pulling a sensual mewl from her.

Vilkas' strong hands roughly gripped her hips and drew her sharply to the edge of the vanity. Faye's hands knotted in his thick ebony locks as he nipped at her mouth, catching her bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it slowly. Faye moaned against his lips, as he guided himself to her wet entrance. Unable to wait another second, Vilkas thrust himself deep into her, tearing her maidenhood and claiming her irrevocably as his own.

Vilkas shuddered hard, a guttural growl rolling up from the depths of his being and spilling from him unchecked at the feeling of her. She was so hot and wet and unbelievably tight around him, gripping him like a vice. No other woman had ever felt like this. He shuddered again, uncontrollably. No other woman had ever made him feel this way.

Faye released a silent scream at the sudden intrusion of her body. Her nails dug into his arms, breaking the skin, as the breath tore violently from her chest. She found herself forgetting how to breathe as pain and searing heat raced along every nerve ending in her body. He was stretching parts of her she didn't know could be stretched. She felt as though she were being torn in half from the inside out. This pain… it went so much deeper than just mere skin. It was in the very marrow of her being. As she clung to him, she forced herself to relax and breath deeply, making herself adjust to him.

Vilkas paused above her. "Are you ok?" He whispered, his breath coming out in ragged pants against her cheek. Faye nodded, grateful that he was willing to take this slow. "Tell me if you want me to stop." Faye nodded, and her body slowly started to relax around him. Though his body shook slightly from the effort, Vilkas forced himself to remain still within her, and watched her face as it slowly lost the tension it was holding. Needing desperately to move, but forcing himself to be gentle, Vilkas slowly pulled back until just his swollen aching tip remained inside of her before he plunged back into her until his tip pulsed against her womb. Faye's head fell back with a strangled moan as she struggled against the wave of pleasurable sensations and pain that were rippling through her.

Vilkas' breathing became labored. She was clenching around him so wonderfully that another shudder overcame him. His fingers dug painfully into her hips as he groaned into her neck, "What are you doing to me, woman?"

Faye's response turned into a choked moan when Vilkas pulled his hips back again just to surge forward and impale her completely, burying himself deep inside her. He started a slow but steady rhythm and the pain started to fade, leaving in its wake pleasure beyond Faye's capacity to endure. She could never have imagined that anyone could inspire such intensity of sensation within her body. She arched into him, clenching her teeth because he felt so wonderfully good, so utterly fantastic, she almost wept.

"Please… don't stop…" Faye begged pitifully, afraid that if he did she'd die. "…don't ever stop..." She wrapped her arms around his neck and crossed her ankles at the small of his back in order to bring him closer to her, needing to feel every inch of his skin against hers.

His fingers wound in her hair, jerking her head down to meet his scorching gaze while he thrust deeper into her. "Never," Vilkas rumbled in a throaty voice, his silver eyes severe and piercing. "I want to live inside of you now."

His hand untangled from her hair, slid down the side of her neck, fingers dragging between her breasts before pushing her dress aside. His head dipped to her chest and Faye whimpered softly as he nibbled her breast lightly, catching the nipple between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. He moved to the other side and repeated the action, coaxing her nipples to hard peaks. When his tongue ran down to explore the valley between her breasts, Faye heard herself moan his name.

"Again," Vilkas growled into her chest, nipping the top of her breast. "Say my name again." His voice was hoarse as he pleaded, and she suddenly felt powerful. Feeling brave, Faye brought her lips to his ear and softly whispered his name, her voice choked with passion.

Vilkas growled harshly as he felt the last of his control snap and fall away. "Again," he demanded strictly, his fingers digging into her rear as he started to move inside of her with punishing abandon.

Faye obeyed his command and called out his name as she withered beneath him, her bliss sharp-edged and raw as he began to push into her with long, hard strokes. Faye could do nothing else but hold onto him as mind-boggling ecstasy burst from the deepest part of her, and she had to sink her teeth into his shoulder to stifle her needy moans. Vilkas responded with a groan that broke off into a growl, his hips snapping harshly against hers as he drove himself deeper and faster into her with a pace that was near brutal against her body.

His calloused hand ran down the side of her thigh to hook behind her knee. In one deft motion, he lifted her knee up to his hip and thrust into her savagely. Faye cried out as he took her deeper, a traveling current of fire moving up her spine, down her arms, pulsing out from her fingertips. It felt as if a raging inferno was coursing through her veins, burning everything in its path. Judging by his ragged breathing, his slightly glazed eyes, and the flush that crept over his skin, she was fairly certain he was experiencing the same torrent of blazing heat that she was.

One particularly sharp thrust hit a spot deep inside of her that made her thighs quiver and her toes curl. "That's it," Vilkas rasped in her ear as she keened loudly. "Come for me, Dragonborn. I want to hear you cry my name when you come."

Faye's fingers curled into his hair as she felt herself nearing the edge. She was panting heavily in his ear, her throat unbearably dry and tight, her vision blurring with tears, her body as tremulous as an earthquake. Sensing her release, Vilkas clamped his hand over her mouth. Faye's back snapped taut, her inner walls clenching and quivering as she fell over the edge, his name falling from her lips, the sound muffled against his palm.

Vilkas came right after her, hard and violent, a ragged howl tearing its way from his throat as he spent himself inside her. His hand fell from her mouth and from the crook of her knee to grasp something solid before his knees gave out. His palms smacked against the surface of the vanity beside her hips, his shaking arms holding himself up so he didn't collapse on top of her.

Faye's body continued to shake violently as she came down from her high. Her fingers slowly unclenched in his hair as she melted against him like an icicle left out in the sun. She felt so liquid. She couldn't pull a thought from the puddle that moments earlier had been her brain.

The room seemed unnaturally quiet now, the air heavy and saturated with the smell of their sex. Dazed, Vilkas' arms came up to wrap themselves around the trembling woman while he remained intimately connected with her. His head fell forward, his cheek resting on her chest. His head rose and fell with her breathing as he listened to her racing heart. Faye closed her eyes and her fingers began gently running through his sweaty black tresses, her hips cradling his.

Neither wished to think of what was to come next.

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Aela stood outside the bridal suite, her ear pressed firmly to the door and her expression twisted into one of bitter jealousy. The huntress slowly pulled back from the door staring at it as if she wanted to burn it to the ground. She turned on her heel and headed swiftly to the other side of the temple. She found the door she wanted and opened it.

"What the hell, Aela? Don't you know how to knock? I'm getting dressed here," Farkas barked at the Nord woman as he pulled on his dark grey tunic with silver embroidery.

A malicious smirk formed on her lips. "Come with me, Farkas. There is something you must see."

"Now? But I'm busy," he whined.

"Now," Aela replied firmly, leaving no room for debate.

"Alright," he grumbled as he followed after her. "So, what do you gotta show me?"

Her eyes glinted darkly. "Something you'll find most intriguing."

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As Vilkas listened to Faye's pulse gradually slow to a steady rhythm, he realized that he'd never felt so blissful. For the first time in his life, he felt utterly at peace. Everything just felt… right. As if he was exactly where he was meant to be. He wanted to stay just like this for eternity. He never wanted to let her go. Never wanted her for anything but his own. But he knew she didn't feel the same. She loved his brother. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Farkas. She didn't want him.

"Do you regret it?" Vilkas whispered his tone cautious and uncertain.

After a few moments of silence, Faye replied, "Do you?" Her tone was even, giving nothing away.

Vilkas lifted his head and caught her eyes. "Faye… I-"

The door suddenly slammed open causing Vilkas and Faye to jump. Faye felt her heart drop to her knees when she saw Farkas standing in the open doorway. She watched in horror as his head turned to meet her eyes, and his expression was so raw and wounded that her heart wanted to break at the sight of it. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, blistering with all the shame that was burning inside her heart.

"Farkas… I..." Faye uttered brokenly, at a loss for words, holding back the sobs that wanted to pour out of her. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

Vilkas' heart twisted inside him at the shattered look on Faye's face, as well as his brother's. He did this, he did this to them both, all because he was selfish and couldn't control himself.

With a heartwrenching expression, Farkas turned and rushed away from them.

"Farkas… WAIT!" Faye shrieked as she pushed Vilkas off of her and stumbled after him, her inner thighs slick with her maiden blood and the other evidence of their coupling.

"Faye!" Vilkas shouted as he frantically tried to grab for her, desperate to keep her with him, but she avoided his hands and was running after his brother. "Fuck," he cursed as he hastily stuffed himself into his pants, tied his laces, and chased after her.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 2**

Vilkas ran out of the bridal suite after Faye, but Aela soon blocked his path.

"Get out of my way!" Vilkas shouted at her as he tried to move around the huntress.

"Let them work it out," Aela replied sharply, a firm hand on his chest.

Vilkas slapped her hand away and studied her face. He saw jealousy, rage, and hurt in her eyes, as well as a vindictive smile on her lips. Understanding dawned on him and he snarled at her, "You did this."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Yes."

He grabbed her upper arms and shook her. "How could you do something like this, Aela?!"

Aela gave him a pointed look. "I don't think you're in a position to pass moral judgments, Vilkas. It wasn't I who was fucking my brother's future wife. On her wedding day and in her wedding dress, no less."

His hold tightened causing her to flinch. "But _why_, Aela? Why tear our family apart even more than it already is?!"

She smiled viciously at him. "Because you are mine, Vilkas," the Nord woman said simply before tearing herself from his hold. She turned her back on him and started walking down the hallway. She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes only slits and her lips pressed into a thin line. "And I _don't_ share."

Vilkas snarled at her as he took a fighting stance, fully prepared to attack her for her treachery. But he realized that the longer he stayed here with Aela, the farther Faye was getting away from him. He growled low in his chest and took off, pushing past Aela and flying out the front door of the temple.

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Farkas ran as fast as he could, away from the woman that had just shattered his heart into little pieces and the brother that had crossed him. He felt so numb. It felt as if all the connections between his mind and heart and body had been severed with that one sharp cut of betrayal.

He raced passed the guards, heading straight for the woods that surrounded Riften. The sun was beginning to set and the full moon would be out soon.

She wasn't far behind him. He could hear her screaming his name. He could smell her, the wind carrying her scent to his nose. But he couldn't face her right now. He needed time. Need to be alone.

As he ran, Farkas let his beast take him over. His pace never slowed as his body began transforming into a werewolf. Soon he was running faster, his beast blood allowing him to fly across the open field towards the woods.

He just needed to escape.

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"FARKAS!" Faye screamed as she tried to catch up to him. The hem of her dress was catching on her feet and the slippers she wore were making her trip all over herself.

She cursed under her breath when she saw him change into a werewolf. She'd never be able to catch him now. Her jaw set with determination and she changed direction and ran towards the Riften stables. She hopped onto the first horse she saw and tossed the horse handler a large pouch of gold when he started calling her a thief.

She cracked the reins and dug her heels into the horse's sides and took off across the open field. She couldn't let him get away now. She saw how hurt he was. That look was branded into her memory and would haunt her for the rest of her life. She had to talk to him. She had to apologize. She had too… fix this somehow.

She was gaining on him when a dark shadow fell over her. Faye's heart stopped in her chest. Her eyes swiftly lifted to the skies and began searching frantically. "Not now... please not now... let it have been a large bird... or a man being thrown through the air... please not-"

"Dovahkiin!" A growling voice bellowed overhead.

"Ohh... shiit..."

"I am Sahloknir! Hear my Voice and despair!"

"A named one. How lovely," Faye deadpanned.

"Those who do not bow will be devoured," the dragon continued to rage.

Faye sighed as she reached for her bow and to her horror realized that she was weaponless, armorless, without potions, and in a wedding dress. "Shor's blood..."

"My overlord will devour your souls in Sovngarde!" The dragon bellowed as it circled over the Dragonborn's head.

"What perfect timing you have, you big stupid reptile!" Faye shrieked at it, hoping her sheer hatred of the creature would send it back to the fiery depths of hell from which it came.

"Dragonborn, your pride will be humbled," Sahloknir said as he landed in front of her, causing a small shockwave to erupt from him that shook the ground. Faye's horse became spooked and threw her from it before taking off in the opposite direction.

"Traitor," she muttered under her breath at the fleeing horse as she stood and brushed herself off.

"My Voice has been silent for too long!" The creature roared at her.

"Yes, well, I'm happy you came out of retirement just for me," Faye grumbled as she got in a fighting stance - as best she could in a dress - and focused her Thu'um.

The dragon snorted. "I see that you mortals have become arrogant while I slept." The dragon approached her. "My lord Alduin requires your death, Dovahkiin. I am glad to oblige him." Sahloknir opened his large mouth and breathed out both fire and ice.

"FEIM ZII GRON!" Faye shouted, becoming Ethereal right before the frost and flames hit her.

"Hiding will not save you, Dovahkiin!" Sahloknir taunted.

Faye inhaled air. "YOL TOOR SHUL!" And she exhaled flame, a blazing inferno escaping her throat that singed the dragon's skin.

"It's to be a real fight, then! Good!" Sahloknir snapped his jaws at her and Faye rolled to the side narrowly missing his massive pointed teeth.

Faye stood and shouted, "KRII LUN AUS!" Her Thu'um cut through Sahloknir's flesh and touched his soul, Marking him For Death and weakening his life force.

Sahloknir fell to the ground as he felt the effects of her Thu'um. "Your voice is strong... for a mortal. But it's no match for mine!"

The dragon rose and swung his tail around at her. Faye ducked under his tail and stood right as his huge claws slashed across her stomach. She cried out in pain and fell back onto her tailbone. His enormous clawed hand fell on top of her, trapping her to the ground. Faye struggled beneath him and opened her mouth to shout but coughed instead, realizing to her horror that she couldn't shout.

A deep sound rumbled in the dragon's chest and Faye recognized it for what it was. Sahloknir was laughing at her. Faye started to shake, choking on her own breath in sheer terror as Sahloknir sucked in a breath and Faye could see the fire and frost building in the back of his throat. She steeled herself for the pain, and most likely death, that was to come, when suddenly a large black werewolf leapt over Faye's head and landed on Sahloknir's snout. The werewolf began slashing furiously with its large claws at the dragon's eyes. Sahloknir roared and frantically shook his head trying to throw the werewolf off.

Faye used the opportunity to squirm out from under the dragon's hold and scrambled away. She looked up in time to see the black werewolf slash out one of Sahloknir's eyes. The dragon roared fiercely and threw his head sharply to the side, throwing the werewolf off of him and sending him flying into the nearest tree trunk.

The werewolf struggled to stand after cracking the tree in half, and Faye saw the furious one-eyed gaze Sahloknir gave the wolf. Frightened and panicked for the werewolf's life, Faye sprinted to the werewolf as she shouted, "DUR NEH VIIR! Durnehviir! Hear my Voice and come forth from the Soul Cairn. I summon you in my time of need!" Faye slid in front of the werewolf, shielding him with her body, glaring ferociously at the dragon.

Sahloknir roared at her and was about to breathe fire and ice when a shower of frost rained down on him from above. Sahloknir snarled and looked up just in time to be hit across the face with a large dragon tail. Faye sighed with relief as she saw a grey-green dragon flying in the air with extremely weathered wings, greatly decayed flesh, and scales that dripped and oozed. The new dragon sucked in a breath and prepared another attack on Sahloknir.

"Durnehviir. What happened to you? You look... disgusting," Sahloknir growled from the ground up at his fellow dragon.

Durnehviir sneered, yellowish drool dripped from his mouth. "I look good for dead, Sahloknir."

"You reside in the Soul Cairn, then?"

"I do, and fight for the Dovahkiin."

Sahloknir hissed, "You defy the great overlord Alduin and side with this Dovahkiin?!"

"Alduin has proven himself unfit to rule. I have gone my own way. If you wish to fight the Qahnaarin, then you wish to fight me."

Sahloknir growled. "Then you shall share her fate."

"I warn you, Sahloknir. My claws have rended the flesh of innumerable foes, but I have never once been felled on the field of battle."

"I do not fear you, Durnehviir, as I do not fear the Dovahkiin!" With that Sahloknir took to the skies to meet Durnehviir and the two dragons began to battle in the air.

"Friends of yours?" Came a familiar deep, husky voice.

Faye turned her attention to the werewolf beside her who had already transformed back into a human. "Vilkas, what were you thinking attacking Sahloknir like that? You could have been killed!" Faye chastised as she gently placed her glowing, healing hands on his bare chest in search of wounds. Her cheeks blushed when she realized he was completely naked.

"That _thing_ had a name?" Vilkas chuckled and winced as he leaned back against the cracked tree trunk he had collided with.

Faye suppressed a grin. "Yes, but that's not the point."

Vilkas cringed when her hands touched his ribs. "By the Nine, I think your ribs are broken," Faye grumbled. She summoned magicka to her hands and began healing him. Her green eyes flickered to his face before returning to his ribs. "Why did you do that?" She asked quietly.

Vilkas shrugged as he allowed her to heal him. Her touch was gentle and soothing, but the magic itself made him uneasy. "I think by now I've killed one of every living thing in Skyrim, except for a dragon. I saw the opportunity to remedy that and took it. Besides..." Those intense silver eyes slide to her. "...you looked like you needed the help."

Her eyes narrowed on his ribs and her jaw clenched. "I don't ever want you risking your life for mine again, Vilkas," she said firmly as she repaired his broken ribs.

Vilkas cringed as he felt the bones in his body snapping back into place. "I'll risk my life whenever I damn well please, woman," he hissed, his brow beginning to bead with sweat from the pain of his bones being mended.

"Stubborn, stupid, idiotic, Nord…" Faye grumbled under her breath as she continued to heal him.

Vilkas' silver eyes softened as he watched her. Her leafy green eyes were hard as she concentrated on her magicka, her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and a tendril of her long golden hair was falling loosely over her face. His hand unconsciously lifted to brush the lock of hair behind her ear when suddenly bright streams of golden-white light rushed around her before sinking into her skin. Faye inhaled sharply and her eyelids fluttered as her body automatically absorbed the dragon soul that sought her own soul out like a moth to a flame.

"What was that?" asked Vilkas warily as his hand fell limply to his side.

Faye let out a jagged breath. "I absorbed the dragon's soul."

His silver eyes looked her over worriedly. "Did it hurt?"

"Not really. It feels like… like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head as my chest expands with boiling lava."

He raised an eyebrow. "And that doesn't hurt?"

Faye chuckled and a growling voice echoed overhead. "Dovahkiin," Durnehviir said as he flew over them. "I have killed Sahloknir, but I must return to the Soul Cairn to heal my injuries."

Faye looked up at the dragon and nodded. "Of course, Durnehviir. Thank you for your help. I owe you one."

"More than one," the dragon mumbled before flying away without another word.

Vilkas looked at her incredulously. "How the hell did you get a dragon to fight for you?"

Faye's cheeks turned red with embarrassment and she laughed. "Well, it's kind of a funny story. You see, I started helping this order of vampire hunters known as the Dawnguard to stop this vampire lord. They realized immediately just how terrible I was as a fighter and only sent me on one mission: to sneak into the vampire lord's mansion with this powerful vampire named Serana, who hated me because I was still a werewolf at the time. We ended up in the Soul Cairn where I met Durnehviir and convinced him to join me. But I almost got both Serana and I killed a couple of times. By the end of it, she was just shoving me behind cover and fighting on her own. When we returned, Serana and the leader of the Dawnguard told me to just go home. So I did. I didn't want to be a burden or cause them any more trouble than I already had, especially since I wasn't able to actually help them in any way," she mumbled dolefully, her words self-deprecating and her smile sad, and Vilkas couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She'd been thrown into the life of a dragon hunter and a warrior when she was neither. Everyone expected so much from her, and she gave it her all, but it was never good enough.

Faye saw the pity in his silver eyes and quickly turned her attention back to healing his ribs. Vilkas was about to ask her if she'd gotten a chance to talk to Farkas when she exclaimed, "There! All done!" She sat back on her knees and beamed up at him. That smile caused his chest to tighten and he felt himself smiling in response to it. His scent was still all over her, marking her as his own, and Vilkas was surprised to find how much that satisfied him.

"How do you feel?" Faye asked.

Vilkas sat up and stretched side-to-side noticing how there was no longer any pain in his ribs. "Nice work, Breton."

Faye's smile fell and her face twisted as she suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. She closed her eyes and put a hand to her suddenly sweaty forehead as she focused on her breathing.

"You're bleeding," Vilkas rumbled, his deep voice laced with worry and concern.

"Huh?" Faye looked down to see the front of her white dress stained crimson. Blood dripped in rivets out of three large, deep gashes that ran across her stomach from her ribs to her hip. A small pool of blood had formed on the ground around her. "Oh no," she mumbled, blinking at the sight of her own blood soaked heavily into the silk, "my dress is ruined."

"Who cares about a fucking dress," Vilkas snapped as his hands applied pressure to her wounds. "You need-"

Several howls came from behind them in the thick woods. Vilkas whirled around to find a dozen wolves closing in on them, attracted to the scent of Faye's blood. In a flash, Vilkas was on his feet, crouching protectively in front of her, his teeth bared in a vicious hissing snarl.

Faye's eyes frantically scanned the faces of the hungry wolves around them. "Vilkas…" she whispered, her fear evident.

"They will not harm you," he growled, his words holding so much promise. "I won't let them."

A wolf leapt at Faye, teeth ready to rip into her flesh, but Vilkas lunged at it, transforming into a werewolf in the blink of an eye, his sharp fangs digging into the wolf's neck before it could reach her. The creature yelped when Vilkas' fangs sank deep and tore its esophagus from its body. Another wolf leapt onto Vilkas' back, but the werewolf reached over his shoulder and threw the wolf into a nearby tree. Two more wolves leapt at Vilkas and he began swiping at them with his large claws as he growled deep in his chest. While Vilkas took on the other wolves, one wolf stalked towards Faye. The Breton scrambled back, she tried to shout but her throat was raw and nothing came out. She stood swiftly and started to run, the single wolf running after her.

Vilkas took down each wolf at a time, his fangs and teeth dripping with blood, but he was beginning to become overwhelmed as another pack of wolves showed up. Five of the new wolves jumped at him at the same time, each sinking their teeth into his body causing Vilkas to yelp in pain. Suddenly, another set of fangs and claws began slashing and tearing at the wolves that were gnawing on him. Once he was free of the beasts, Vilkas saw another werewolf at his side growling threateningly at the remaining wolves. Vilkas immediately recognized the werewolf that had rescued him.

It was Farkas.

Vilkas' heart tightened unmercifully in his chest at the sight of his brother by his side, protecting him from harm as he had always done for the last twenty-two years. A howl tore him from his thoughts and Vilkas lunged at the wolf that was aiming for Farkas. Together the two brothers tore into the remaining wolves, decimating them. When there were no more enemies, and the ground and surrounding trees were covered in blood, the two brothers transformed back into humans. They were breathing deeply, each drenched in blood, thankfully most of it wasn't their own.

Vilkas turned to look at his brother, his silver eyes sincere. "Farkas, I'm so sorry for what I did. I-"

"Vilkas, I can't speak of this now," Farkas interrupted harshly. "But know this…" His silver eyes sharpened and darkened in a way that Vilkas had never seen before. "As of this moment you are _not_ my brother and she is _not_ my betrothed. You are only my Harbinger, and she is only my shield-sister. Are we clear?"

Vilkas cringed at the sound of his brother's voice and the brutal look he gave him. He nodded dejectedly, "Crystal."

"Good." Farkas looked down at the pool of blood on the ground. "Is that yours?"

"Faye's," Vilkas answered quietly, concern evident on his face.

Farkas frowned; worry entering his expression as well. "Well, let's find her before she bleeds out and gets herself killed."

Vilkas gave his brother a small, hopeful smile. "Aye. I'm with you, brother."

Farkas turned and walked away before uttering, "And I'm with you."

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Faye ran as fast as she could towards Riften with a wolf on her heels and her blood running in rivets from the gashes on her stomach. Gods, she was so weak and pathetic. She couldn't even kill a wolf! How the fuck was she supposed to kill Alduin, the World Eater, the Nordic God of Destruction? Everyone was doomed. Because of her. Because she was too weak.

She stumbled a bit and had to resist the urge to just let herself fall and let the wolf eat her. She was so tired. All she wanted to do was lay down and rest. But she couldn't. If she did, she would die. She had to keep going. So many lives depended on her. His life depended on her.

Faye's white slipper flew off her foot and she fell face first in the dirt. She rolled over just in time to see the wolf leap into the air, ready to sink its teeth into her, but the creature was struck through the neck with an arrow and fell dead at her feet, its blood spraying across her face. Before she could look around and find her rescuer, Faye's eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted from blood loss.

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Vilkas and Farkas stopped running when they came upon a dead wolf with an arrow through its neck beside a small white slipper that was covered in blood.

"Faye…" Vilkas whispered softly as he crouched down on the balls of his feet to pick up the slipper. It looked so small in his large hand.

Farkas knelt and tore the arrow from the wolf's neck and eyed it critically. "This arrow isn't Faye's."

Vilkas lifted his head as he caught something on the wind. His expression instantly darkened and he growled, "I smell another scent. It's male."

Farkas' eyebrows rose. "She was taken?"

"I think so." Vilkas stood, her slipper clutched possessively in his hand.

Farkas turned to face his brother. "What do we do?"

Vilkas' eyebrows drew low and tight over his silver eyes as his lips curled into a fierce, resolute snarl. "We find her."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 3**

_Faye practically ran down the hallway in the living quarters of Jorrvaskr, away from Vilkas' room where Vilkas was still standing in his doorway with Aela. _

_She'd never been so humiliated and jealous and angry in her entire life. Vilkas was sleeping with Aela! How did she never notice it before? She was so stupid. So unbelievably stupid! And she just made a colossal fool of herself!_

_Faye's hands were sticky from the sweet roll she'd made from scratch the night before instead of bathing, eating, or healing the injuries she had obtained from fighting the Glenmoril witches days before. She'd slaved over that damn sweet roll all night, trying to make it absolutely perfect, foolishly hoping that it would somehow cure all that was wrong between her and Vilkas._

_StupidStupidStupid._

_Exceedingly bitter and drowning in her own mortification, Faye rubbed her sticky hands furiously on her thief pants to remove all traces of it. Just the thought of her cooking that stupid dessert for that stupid Nord made her want to vomit all over him and his stupid gorgeous lover. What the hell was wrong with her? Did she have some kind of mental condition that made her care for a man that didn't even notice her, and when he did notice her he loathed her very existence? There was something terribly wrong with her. Something very, very wrong. _

_Faye stomped into the bathroom, grateful to find the bathtub Tilma had made for her the night before still there. Frowning, Faye peeled off her thief armor that was coated in her own dried blood and took the clips out of her hair that were holding it securely in a low bun. Her long blonde hair tumbled down in two golden braids, the ends brushing across the small of her back. She undid the ties and slowly ran her fingers through her dirty and greasy hair. _

_She felt betrayed that Aela would sleep with Vilkas after how close she and the Nord woman had gotten over the last couple of months. But Faye knew her resentment was misplaced. It wasn't Aela's fault. Aela didn't know Faye had feelings for Vilkas. No one knew. Especially Vilkas. __Faye never had the courage to approach him and tell him how she felt. Now she never would._

_Faye cursed under her breath and moved to the tub. She slowly eased her bruised and bloody body into the now cold water. She grabbed the soap and began scrubbing her body and hair, wincing as she did so from her injuries. Once she was clean, she wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on top of them as she shivered in the cold bathwater._

_She'd been so stupid thinking that Vilkas would accept her apology, and even more stupid in believing that he might return her feelings one day. She'd been longing for him ever since she met him, and now she finally realized just how truly moronic that had been. Gods, she was such an idiot. Why would Vilkas care for a girl like her, one who hid herself away from the world, when he had a fearless beauty like Aela? The Nord woman was strong and brave, valued and respected, smart and beautiful – everything Faye wished to be. _

_Faye's wet fingers dug into her black-and-blue legs and her eyes clenched shut, her face twisting and lips puckering from the unbearable throbbing ache in her chest. It hurt. It hurt so much knowing that Vilkas would never look at her the way she'd always dreamed, that her feelings would forever be unrequited. The hurt was excruciating, pulsing and breathing, like a living thing caught in her ribcage, scratching and gnawing at her insides. It felt as if a wounded animal was trying to claw its way out of her chest, damaging her heart beyond repair. _

_Breathe, just breathe… she told herself over and over again like a litany, rocking back and forth in the cold water, her body convulsing and caving in on itself. But she couldn't. Each time her lungs drew in breath it caught in her throat, forming a large lump that she couldn't swallow. She felt so wounded, so low, so completely empty. _

_Faye heard a dripping sound and opened her eyes to see the bath water rippling. She raised her hand to her cheek and felt warm tears spilling from her eyes, evidence of her weakness. Her chin quivered on her knees and she sniffled. She wiped at her eyes, but they wouldn't stop. The tears just kept coming. Faye dug her face into her knees and tried her best to muffle her sobs and the sound of her heart dying._

_A loud knock on the door echoed throughout the small room. "Faye?"_

_The Breton's head snapped up. "Y-Yess..." She replied, trying to make her voice even as she frantically wiped at her eyes. _

"_You alright?"_

"_Yes, I'm fine, Farkas," Faye answered as she quickly got out of the tub and toweled herself dry, trying desperately to collect the bits and pieces of her heart that were lying on the floor and glue them together just long enough for her to function properly._

"_You haven't eaten a thing since you returned, Faye." Farkas' voice was quiet and laced with concern. "Let's head over to the Bannered Mare. They're serving beef stew tonight."_

"_Oh, that's very kind of you to offer," Faye answered as she put her dirty thief armor back on, drawing in deep breaths to get her emotions under control. "But I think I'm just going to go to bed."_

"_I wasn't askin', Faye. You need to eat," Farkas replied, his deep voice stern and leaving no room for argument._

_Faye sighed as she hastily braided her wet hair in two long braids. "I really don't feel like being around people right now."_

_She heard him snort on the other side of the door. "You never feel like being around people."_

_Her lips pulled up at that. "That's true." She twisted her braids around at the back of her head until they formed a tight bun. "But I think I'll pass. Another time perhaps," she said as she secured the bun with her hair clips. _

"_Come on, Faye. You need to eat, and I need some decent mead and good company," implored Farkas. "Please."_

_Faye pulled her hood on to cover her face, pulling it down as low as it would go. She closed her eyes and took a long deep breath, covering the cracks in her heart with duck tape, and forced all the pain and anger and jealousy into a small box at the back of her mind. When she opened her eyes again she felt she could truly breathe for the first time that day. She exhaled slowly and opened the bathroom door to find Farkas leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. _

"_Is this just another excuse for you to see Inga?" Faye asked knowingly._

_Farkas grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "She still won't talk to me. I don't know what I did wrong."_

_Faye walked past him and he followed, walking beside her. "Maybe it's because you kept your relationship a secret."_

_His face fell. "No, she was the one who wanted to keep it secret. Said that way she wouldn't become a target, or something."_

_Faye nodded. "Smart girl."_

"_She is," Farkas sighed wistfully as he held the door open for her and they walked up the steps into the mead hall. "And funny, and kind, and pretty." He shook his head. "I want her back, Faye." His silver eyes slid to her and a grin formed on his lips. "That's where you come in."_

_Faye stopped short. "What?"_

_He spoke excitedly, "We'll go to the Bannered Mare, she's working tonight, and you'll make her jealous."_

"_I'll what?!" _

"_Please, do this for me," he pleaded with wide eyes. "As your friend, I'm asking you to help me."_

_Faye was in no mood to play matchmaker. Her heart was being held together with imaginary duck tape, for gods sake. She just wanted to go to bed and cry herself to sleep, let her feelings for Vilkas seep out of her body along with her tears. But Farkas was giving her those big, puppy dog eyes and all she could say was, "Alright."_

_His face lit up and he pulled her into a tight, bear huge._

_Later that evening, Faye was sitting on a bar stool beside Farkas, three empty bowls of beef stew and three empty bottles of mead resting beside her, and one nearly empty bottle of mead in her hand. Faye never had alcohol before, but Farkas had convinced her she needed it tonight, and now she was flat out drunk for the first time in her life._

"_You said she was supposed to be working tonight," Faye slurred heavily. They'd been at the Bannered Mare all day waiting for Inga to come in for work._

"_She was. I don't know why she didn't show," Farkas answered glumly before taking a hefty swallow of his mead._

"_Don't worry about her, Farkas." Faye hiccupped. "If she can't see how wonderful you are, then she doesn't deserve you. Besides, there are plenty of women out there who'd kill me just to take this seat next to you."_

"_Really?" Farkas asked with a goofy grin on his face._

_Faye nodded, her vision blurring from the movement. "Absolutely. You and your brother are the two most sought after bachelors in Skyrim. Well, I guess neither of you are bachelors anymore. You have Inga, and Vilkas has Aela."_

_Farkas choked on his mead and almost dropped his bottle. "Vilkas is with Aela?!"_

"_Yep," Faye muttered despondently as she slid her bottle from one hand to the other on the bar. "Found him with Aela in his room this morning."_

_Farkas' eyes softened on the Breton. So that's why she was crying earlier. He'd heard her soft sobs while she was in the bathroom. Now he knew why. Poor thing. She'd been lost to his brother from the very beginning. Why couldn't his twin see the treasure that was right in front of him? _

_Farkas looked down at his bottle and said gently, "My brother has trouble seeing people for what they are. He may be the one with the brains, but sometimes he can be blind to the things around him."_

_Faye snorted. "Your brother is a dumbass dickbag, that's what he is." She laughed and hiccupped, swaying uneasily from the force of it, then fell off the back of her bar stool. She landed on her back with a loud thud, erupting in peals of laughter. _

_Farkas' mead sprayed out of his mouth as he burst out laughing. Every patron turned to watch the two Companions act like fools for a few seconds before returning to their drinks. Farkas' laughter slowly died out and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes fell to the girl giggling on the floor like a mad woman from his bar stool, and his eyes widened as he saw her face for the very first time. _

_His heart nearly stopped beating at the sight of her. _

_Her porcelain skin was flushed from the mead and her laughter, __her face framed__ by __wisps of __golden hair, her large mossy green eyes glistening up at him with unconcealed mirth and warmth. _

_Faye's laughter caught in her throat when she noticed the way Farkas was staring at her, as if he'd seen a unicorn. Her blonde eyebrows drew up and together. "What?"_

"_You're… face..." Farkas uttered in astonishment, silver eyes running greedily over her features as if drinking them in. _

_Faye gasped as she realized what had happened. She quickly sat up on the floor and pulled her hood even lower over her face, her cheeks burning crimson._

_Farkas blinked and shook his head, as if being pulled out of a hypnotic state. He stood swiftly and bent over to lift the tiny Breton off the floor and put her gently back on her bar stool. He returned to his own stool, his body angled towards her, a beaming smile on his face. "So, you're a blonde," Farkas said, unable to contain his excitement at having seen her. _

_Faye rested her elbows on the bar. "Really? When did that happen?"_

_Farkas ignored her sarcasm. "And you have green eyes."_

_She rested her chin on her fist. "Really? I thought they were blue."_

_The Nord gave her a reproachful look. "__Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Faye."_

_She scoffed. "Really? I've always thought it brought out my eyes."_

_He growled, "Knock it off."_

"_Only if you drop the subject," she snapped._

_They each grumbled curses at each other before going back to drinking silently. Minutes later, Farkas turned his attention back to Faye, an amused grin on his face. "It looks like I just won fifty septims."_

_Faye gave him a quizzical look. "What are you talking about?"_

"_We had a bet going as to why you always have your face covered. I bet it was because you were pretty. And I was right."_

_Faye blushed and picked at the paper label on her mead bottle. "And why would I want to cover my face if I were pretty?"_

_Farkas shrugged. "Because you're shy and you don't want the attention. Because you're a woman fighter and want to be taken seriously. Because you want people to like you for who you are, and not for what you look like."_

_Faye silently slid her bottle back and forth between her hands, frowning thoughtfully. He was just being nice. She'd never been attractive. Besides, that wasn't why she always wore a hood. Her eyes shifted to him for just a second before returning to her mead bottle. "What did everyone else guess?" _

_Farkas scratched his cheek. "Let's see, Torvar bet you had buck teeth, Ria bet you were bald, Njada bet you were an albino, Athis bet you had fish lips, Vignar bet you had a cleft lip, Aela bet you had a scar on your face, and Vilkas bet it had something to do with your past." The moment his brother's name came out of his mouth, Faye's fingers tightened on her bottle until they were as white as an ice wraith. Farkas quickly changed the subject, words stumbling out of his mouth, "Y-You're, uhh, a lot younger than I thought."_

_Her fingers loosened slightly on the bottle. "I'm eighteen. Only four years younger than you."_

_Farkas exhaled with relief, happy with himself for having recovered so quickly from his momentary slipup. "Aye. So, you're the same age as Inga."_

_Faye nodded and took a sip of her drink. She stared at the bottle for another long moment, a thoughtful frown marring her expression. After a few minutes, she turned and faced him. "Do you... do you see yourself marrying Inga?"_

_Farkas sighed wearily and ran his hand through his black hair. "All I've ever wanted was to be a Companion, protect my brother, find a good woman, and have pups of my own. I don't think Inga wants that with me."_

_Faye smiled softly and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "That's a lovely dream, Farkas. Any woman would be proud to call you her husband."_

"_Would you?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them._

"_I..." Her hand slowly pulled away from his arm. "I don't think I meet you standards, Farkas." Her voice was quiet and stilted. "I'm not a good woman."_

_His large hand caught her much smaller one. "You are," he said sincerely, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'd be lucky to end up with a woman like you."_

_Faye smiled warmly and squeezed his hand back, thinking of what her life would be like with Farkas. They were best friends, they got along great, made each other laugh, picked each other up when they were down. With Farkas, she'd have a good life with a good man. But would she be settling? Would she be giving up on something… greater? Something that was filled with passion and ardor, endless devotion and deep affection. Something as rare as __Azura's Star, as precious as a newborn,__ and as treasured as an Elder Scroll. But maybe she wasn't meant for such a thing. Maybe she was meant for a comfortable life with a kind man that brought her a sense of peace and contentment._

_As Faye gazed into Farkas' silver mist eyes - eyes that were identical to the ones that haunted her in her dreams - she realized that she may not be able to reach her dream, but she could make Farkas' dream come true. She could make him happy, be a good wife to him and bring his children into the world. And even though she wouldn't be with the one her heart truly wanted, she'd bring happiness to her dearest friend, and that was something she'd give anything for, even her chance at real love. _

Faye felt the dream slowly fade away as she became more conscious. She hadn't thought of that night with Farkas in a long time. The thought of Farkas made her heart wrench with guilt. He'd been such a good friend to her. He'd helped her pick up the pieces of her broken heart after Vilkas had shattered it.

Faye's fingers twitched and she felt something soft under them. Where was she? What happened after the wolf was killed? She remembered being saved by someone, but couldn't remember who. All she knew was that her stomach felt like it had been shredded to bits, and the place between her legs ached with a soreness she'd never felt before. Her heart fell into her gut, yet fluttered at the same time, as she remembered just how she'd become sore there.

Memories suddenly came rushing back to her. A wedding dress, wine, snowberries, hypnotic silver eyes, large calloused hands, warm breath, a deep husky voice, quivering skin, immense pain soon replaced by overwhelming pleasure so intense it brought her to tears, her heart so full it was splitting at the seams.

Faye groaned. So, that part hadn't been a dream. She had given herself to Vilkas. On her wedding day. To Farkas.

Shame and anguish rippled through her. She'd betrayed Farkas by sleeping with his brother. She felt so terrible. She was such a horrible person to hurt him like that. She'd give anything for Farkas' forgiveness, but knew she didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve anything from him, much less absolution. What had she done? She'd thrown away the love of a man who wanted to spend the rest of his life with her for a man who was just using her to sate his desire for her body. Vilkas had acted on his sudden and unreasonable attraction to her, and now that his curiosity was satisfied, he'd return to Aela, the woman he loved.

Faye felt her lower lip begin to tremble, her throat beginning to tighten, and she squeezed her eyes shut even tighter against the telltale prick of tears. Gods, how could she let herself sleep with Vilkas? Yes, she'd wanted it at the time, had wanted it ever since she met him, but the consequences had been too devastating for just a slaking of lust. Farkas would never speak to her again, all the Companions would hate her, and Vilkas would be back with Aela and forget all about her. In one mindless, lust-filled moment, she'd lost everything.

Faye felt tears slip from the corners of her eyes and roll down her temples into her hair. She slowly opened her eyes to blinding light. She tried to lift her hand to shield her eyes, but a hand on her arm stopped her.

"Easy there, lass," came a familiar deep, appealing voice.

Faye gasped. "Brynjolf?"

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she heard a deep, low chuckle beside her. "The one and only."

Faye tried to sit up, but immediately fell back as a sharp stab of pain erupted in her stomach. She clenched her eyes shut, groaning, trying to breathe against the crippling pain shooting out from her gut.

Brynjolf tsked her. "Now, look what you've done, lass. You've gone and opened the wound again." Faye moaned from the throbbing in her abdomen. "Here, drink this."

As Faye fought to maintain consciousness, she felt a hand ease under her shoulders and gently lift her upper body. She felt something cold and hard press against her lips and she opened them compliantly. A cold liquid ran down the back of her throat, the taste bitter. She immediately recognized it. It was a health potion. The bottle was pulled away from her mouth and she licked her lips. As he placed the empty bottle on the nightstand, Faye's forehead fell forward onto his shoulder, her head spinning. She breathed in, immediately recognizing his scent, and whispered, "You smell like cinnamon and juniper berries..." Her voice drifted off, her eyelids heavy as lead, threatening to shut at any second.

He chuckled. "So I've been told, by you."

"Really?" Faye asked as he eased her back down, her head swimming and her skin damp with sweat, her body shaking. She felt warm fingers trail lightly across her fevered forehead, brushing aside the sweaty strands of hair that were stuck to her forehead and neck.

"Sleep, lass," came Brynjolf's alluring voice as his fingers tucked the locks of hair behind her ear. Faye closed her eyes, cocooned in the warmth and safety that Brynjolf's voice provided. "I'll watch over you."

But Faye didn't catch his last words, as she'd already passed out again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Her scent ends here," Farkas stated as the brothers entered a small graveyard in the city of Riften. The sun had set, the stars already bright in the clear night sky. Crickets chirped in the silence of the night as torchbugs hovered around them, giving of a soft green glow. The temperate had dropped considerably without the sun's warmth, but it didn't bother either Nord.

"There's nothing here," Vilkas growled in aggravation. "She has to be around here somewhere!"

The two brothers searched frantically around the small graveyard for any trace of her, but found nothing. Faye's trail had gone cold. "Dead-end," Farkas sighed running a hand through his hair.

"**FUCK!**" Vilkas roared in frustration and tore a tombstone from the ground and threw it so hard it slammed into a Shrine of Talos nearby, shattering both.

"Vilkas, calm your fire," Farkas said firmly as he watched his brother fight with his inner beast.

Vilkas panted heavily and his body shook. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as his blood boiled in his veins. His eyes shifted between cool silver and an abnormal shade of yellow as his blood pumped so hard that all he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his ears. After a few minutes, Vilkas exhaled heavily and looked at Farkas.

"In control?"

"For now," Vilkas grumbled.

"Now what?"

"She couldn't have just vanished into thin air," Vilkas said as he thought. He looked around and examined everything closely. That's when he noticed Shadowmarks on the tomb walls. "That's the symbol for the Thieves Guild," Vilkas stated, pointing to the diamond with the circle inside of it carved into the brick wall. "I bet there's a secret entrance to their headquarters around here somewhere."

"So, you think one of the members of the thieves guild saved her and took her back to their headquarters?"

Vilkas nodded. "Yes. I'd considered it earlier, but I'm certain of it now."

Farkas felt all the tension and worry that'd been building up since the moment he saw Faye's blood on the ground leave him as he realized that she wasn't kidnapped or taken hostage, but was thankfully in the hands of her guild. "Well, that's a good thing then, right? I mean, Faye is a member of the thieves guild. They'll take care of her."

Vilkas didn't respond. He loathed that he hadn't been the one to save her. He told her that he'd protect her, and he hadn't. And now she was somewhere he couldn't get too. He didn't like it. He didn't like not knowing whether she was okay or not. He didn't like not being able to take care of her himself. He didn't like not being close to her.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Farkas.

Vilkas' eyes flashed. "We get her back. She belongs with us!"

Farkas scratched his head. "And how do we do that?"

Vilkas grunted and began pacing back and forth in the small graveyard like a caged wolf as he thought.

Farkas crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned his hip against the black iron fence that surrounded the graveyard as he waited for Vilkas to come up with a plan. He scratched his chest and tried to loosen the material that seemed to be molded to his chest and abdomen, displaying the toned muscles there. They'd both ruined their clothes when they'd transformed into werewolves earlier. They had to trade with a Khajiit outside of the city and the only clothes the cat had were sized for Imperials, itchy, and riddled with holes. As they'd rushed through the city streets, women had swooned at the sight of them in their skintight black attire and men had gawked at them, whispering of their feats as Companions. But neither brother noticed the attention they were inadvertently drawing. They were both too focused on finding a small thing with long blonde hair and large green eyes.

Farkas watched a torchbug land on his shoulder, its green light illuminating his face in the darkness of the night. He exhaled slowly, his mind more settled than it had been all day. The search for Faye had allowed him to calm down and think about what had happened. He was never much of a thinker, he usually left that up to Vilkas or just went with what his gut told him. And right now his gut was telling him that Faye was a good person who would never intentionally hurt him.

Farkas had known of Faye's feelings for Vilkas when he asked her to marry him, just as she'd know of his feeling for Inga. He just hadn't been prepared for what would happen if Vilkas ever learned of those feelings. To be honest, he was angrier with Vilkas than he was with Faye. Faye he understood. If Inga had walked into his room this morning, he wasn't sure what he would've done. He understood what it felt like to have a piece of your heart reserved for one person and one person only, giving them a power that made you helpless to them. It was Vilkas he didn't understand. Wasn't he with Aela? What was he thinking sleeping with Faye, especially when she'd been a virgin? Didn't he know how much he meant to her? If Vilkas had only used Faye's feelings for him to get her to have sex with him, then Farkas felt obliged to pummel his twin into the dirt. But if Vilkas actually felt-

"Alright, I've got it," Vilkas said, pulling Farkas from his thoughts. "There's a Nord named Vipir the Fleet that's a member of the thieves guild. He's in the city and I know what he looks like. We find him and get him to take us to Faye."

"Alright." Farkas nodded as he pushed himself off the iron fence. "Where do we start?"

Vilkas began leading them out of the graveyard and towards the marketplace. "I'm sure there's a mead hall around here somewhere, this is Skyrim after all. I say we start looking there. We can ask the patrons if they've seen him."

"Sounds good to me. Lead the way, _Harbinger_," Farkas said teasingly with a playful shove of his brother's shoulder.

Vilkas' lips pulled up into a smirk as he shoved his brother back, his hopes rising that maybe his brother could find it in his heart to forgive him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brynjolf gently closed the door behind him, trying to be as quiet as he could so as not to wake her. The Nord pressed his palms on the wooden door and let his forehead fall against it, a weary sigh leaving him.

Faye was in pain, a tremendous amount of pain. He could hear her soft groans through the door while she slept. Seeing and hearing her suffer like that pulled on something deep inside of him, something that awakened every inherent instinct to protect her. Without that large bulky armor on she looked so small, so vulnerable, so fragile. He wasn't sure why that wolf had been chasing her, but he was damn well glad he'd been bribing the Riften guards when he had or else-

"Guild master," came a male voice, breaking his train of thought. Brynjolf turned around to find Vipir approaching him with Faye's weapons, armor, and pack.

"Found these and recognized them as Faye's. Figured you'd want them," Vipir said holding out the Breton's things, making sure to leave out exactly where he'd found them. He didn't want to be the unlucky bastard who told Brynjolf that the girl was to be married that morning.

"Nice work," Brynjolf replied in his thick brogue as he took Faye's things, smiling at the armor she still wore like a brand – his brand. He set them on the floor beside his door. "Oh, and I need you to go in my place and meet with Maven Black-Briar at the Black-Briar Meadery in about an hour."

Vipir scratched his head, uncomprehending. "But… Maven won't meet with anyone besides you and Faye?"

Brynjolf ran a nimble hand through his rusty red hair. "Well, she will today. I'm not leaving Faye's side."

Vipir shifted his weight uncertainly. "But… what if Maven tries to have me killed, you know, like the last guy?"

"Oh, don't worry, lad," Brynjolf said cheerfully, clapping a hand on the other Nord's shoulder. "If that old bat tries to kill you just dangle some Skooma in front of her face and she'll leave you the hell alone. I keep some in my desk for just such an occasion. But be careful, she might try to kiss you after she's tried some." Brynjolf snickered at Vipir's horrified expression.

Nervously, Vipir rubbed the back of his neck. "Need me to do anything after that, guild master? Like, oh I don't know, try to steal from a giant?" Vipir jeered, a little wary that he might not be returning from the Black-Briar Meadery alive.

"Yeah," Brynjolf answered, giving the man a mischievous grin, his pale green eyes glinting with amusement. "I want you to take your balls out of your purse and ask out that woman you've been eyeing for months."

Vipir began sputtering, his face bright red with embarrassment.

Brynjolf chuckled and reached into his pocket, slapping five hundred septims in Vipir's hand. "My sources tell me she likes Colovian Brandy, sapphires, and purple mountain flowers. Show the lady a good time."

"Y-Yes, Guild M-Master," Vipir stammered, stumbling over his words, utterly mortified. "I'll just, uhh, get right on that. You know…" Vipir coughed into his hand. "…finding the purse that contains my testicles."

Brynjolf laughed heartily and slapped the Nord on the back. "That's the spirit, lad!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Vipir kissed Svana Far-Shield goodnight at her door. She smiled at him afterwards and ran her fingers adoringly over the silver sapphire necklace he'd bought her that was now hanging around her neck. He watched her sniff the purple mountain flowers he'd picked for her as she said goodnight and closed the door behind her.

Vipir whistled merrily as he walked away from her door, a bounce in his step. He was a happy man. He'd come out alive from his meeting with Maven Black-Briar, he'd worked up the courage to ask Svana out, which she'd elatedly accepted, and she'd even kissed him! Yep, life was good. Life was very, very good.

Vipir's whistling died out when he saw a pair of silver eyes tracking him in the pitch-black shadows behind Haelga's Bunkhouse, which blocked the light of the full moon overhead. Those steel-colored eyes looked like they belonged to a wild beast. They were oddly familiar. Vipir immediately felt a hostile, feral aura radiating from those shadows. Vipir's blood ran cold when a low, deep ominous growl resonated from the darkness, those silver eyes narrowing into mere slits, like a serpent preparing to strike.

Cautiously, Vipir took a tentative step backwards, afraid that any sudden movements would cause the creature to become enraged and try to eat him. The growling grew louder. Vipir took another step backwards. Suddenly, a dark figure came flying at him from the shadows. In the blink of an eye the figure had Vipir rammed up against the bunkhouse, a hard forearm pressed forcefully across his chest, pinning him in place.

Vipir stared into the stone cold face of a menacing Nord with black war paint around his intense silver eyes. "Faye Ashhart. Where is she?" The Nord bit out, his voice a mere rumble in his chest, the aggression pouring out of his skin.

Vipir swallowed, hard. He smelled of blood.

The Nord growled harshly in his throat, pulled his arm back just to slam it hard into Vipir's chest again, making him wince and cough. "I asked you a question, thief?"

"Vilkas?" Vipir asked, recognizing the Nord as the antagonistic Companion he'd met in the Temple of Mara earlier that day.

"Where is she?" Vilkas growled threateningly, his hand clamping tight and unyielding around the thief's neck like an iron shackle as he lifted him off the ground.

Vipir sneered at the Companion as his feet dangled above the ground. "Go fuck yourself," he spat.

Vilkas bared his teeth at the thief. "Tell me before I break your neck."

"Screw you!" Vipir shouted.

"Hmmm… maybe I should break _her_ neck instead," Vilkas sneered as he nodded his head towards Svana's door.

"No!" Vipir cried frantically, struggling harder now.

"Then tell me!" Vilkas demanded, eyes hard and uncompromising, knuckles white from his iron like grip on the thief's neck. Vipir clawed at the immovable hand on his throat, wheezing, his face red as a fire salt and his eyes bulging out of his skull under the forceful grip.

Vipir saw the unrelenting look on the Nord's face and decided to spill on Faye's whereabouts. He swallowed and forced the words out past the hand on his throat. "She's - at the - Thieves Guild - Headquarters."

Vilkas felt relief wash over him, though he didn't show it. "She's alive?"

"Yes," Vipir confirmed with great difficulty. "Brynjolf's - taking care of - her."

Vilkas felt a twinge of jealousy and glared fiercely at the thief. "Who's that?"

"The - Guild - Master."

Vilkas' eyes steeled. "You will take me to her."

Vipir shook his head, as much as he could with a hand fastened like a manacle around his neck. "I - can't! It's - against - guild rules."

Vilkas snarled and his grip tightened. "Then you die."

"So - be it. I won't - betray - my guild."

Vilkas cursed as he thought it over. He could kill this thief for refusing to take him to Faye, but then the Thieves Guild would come after the Companions for revenge. And Faye would never forgive him for killing one of her friends. He detested it, but there was nothing else he could do. She was in a place he couldn't get too. He didn't like leaving Faye, he didn't like it one bit, but he was the Harbinger of the Companions now. He couldn't be risking the lives of his family for his own selfish reasons, especially when he knew Faye was alive and being taken care of by members of her guild.

Vilkas swore venomously before dropping the thief. Vipir fell to the ground in a heap, clutching his throat and coughing as he gasped for air. Vilkas glared viciously down at the thief. "Tell Faye that Vilkas and Farkas have been looking for her. Tell her that we've been worried about her. Tell her that we'll return to Jorrvaskr and wait for her there. Tell her…" His voice dropped into a whisper, his eyes holding such sadness. "…tell her it won't be home without her." The sadness in his eyes vanished almost instantly like a flame doused with water, immediately replaced with a severe malevolence that caused Vipir to instinctively recoil. "You will tell her this, thief, or I'll be coming back for you. And I won't be so nice next time." His voice was dark and foreboding, promising nothing but pain and blood.

Vipir covered his sudden fear with a scoff and rubbed his throat. "This was you _nice_?"

A sinister smirk formed on the Companion's face. "Couldn't you tell?"

Moments later, Vilkas walked into the Bee and Barb, a Riften inn where Farkas was waiting for him. He spotted his twin almost immediately sitting at a small table in the back, a tankard in his hand. Vilkas ignored the lascivious looks the women in the room gave him as he crossed the room and fell into the chair across from his brother. Vilkas exhaled heavily and rubbed his temples as he tried to rid the nagging ache behind his eyes.

He hadn't had anything to eat or drink all day and he had a throbbing headache. His ribs still ached from the injury he'd sustained earlier from the dragon, and his nerves were fried from worrying about Faye. He was emotionally and physically drained from everything that'd happened today. He just wanted to return to Whiterun, but he didn't want to leave without her. He had to see her. Needed to see her.

Farkas watched his brother closely from across the small wooden table. Vilkas was moody and edgy, his senses and emotions heightened, and his temper ready to snap at any minute, most likely because there was a full moon out tonight. It called to the beast-blood in both of them, but Farkas had always been able to control the beast, while Vilkas struggled with it. "Got us two rooms for the night. The first two rooms at the top of the stairs," Farkas said, tossing Vilkas' room key onto the table. "I also got the witches' heads from the Temple of Mara. Though Faye's stuff was already gone when I got there."

Vilkas grunted as he continued to rub his temples. "Most likely taken by one of the thieves guild members."

Farkas nodded and raised his tankard to his lips and took a gulp of his mead. "So, what did you find out?"

Vilkas met his brother's gaze. "She's alive, and being taken care of at the Thieves Guild Headquarters."

A small smile graced Farkas' lips, the first one all day. "That's good news."

"Aye. But they won't let us see her," Vilkas hissed, his expression darkening. "I don't like it."

Farkas slid his extra tankard of mead across the table and Vilkas caught it. "Look at it from their side. Would you like having members of the Thieves Guild walking around Jorrvaskr? And Jorrvaskr is well known, whereas this headquarters of theirs isn't. Maybe they just want to keep it secret."

Vilkas took a hefty swallow of the mead. "Aye." His lips pulled up slightly as he eyed his brother proudly. "That was very astute of you, Farkas."

Farkas shrugged with a small grin of his own. "I've picked up a few things hanging around a brain like you."

Vilkas' grin fell, his expression becoming grave and somber. "Farkas, about Faye-"

"Do we have to do this now?" Farkas asked tightly, his grin gone as well.

"Please, let me apologize," Vilkas implored.

Farkas grunted. "What's done is done."

"Yes, but… this bad blood between us… I can't stand it. It's not right. We've never let anything stand between us before."

Farkas' eyes tightened and his words came out clipped. "Well, that's not my fault, now is it?"

"Please, Farkas. I love you. You are my twin, my blood, my other half. We share the same heart, you and I. Your happiness is my happiness. Your pain is my pain. I'd never intentionally hurt you." Vilkas gazed at his brother, his eyes open and earnest. "I'm sorry, Farkas. Not for being with her, I'm not sorry for that, but for being with her when she was still promised to you. It was wrong to betray your trust in such a way. And for that, I am truly sorry," he finished, his words ringing with sincerity.

Farkas searched his brother's eyes. "Why'd you do it then?"

"Because she... well she…" Vilkas exhaled sharply, frustrated, and ran a hand through his disheveled ebony locks. "… she does something to me. I can't explain it, can't understand it." Vilkas' silver eyes lifted to meet the pair identical to his own. "I won't pretend that I regret it. I don't. I won't lie to you and say that she means nothing to me. She does. I care for her, a great deal. I don't want her for anything but my own."

Farkas mulled over his brother's words and Vilkas waited patiently for his brother's response. "You have my forgiveness, Vilkas," Farkas finally uttered. "You are my brother. We've never let anything come between us. We will be by each other's side until we die." His expression dissolved into one as hard as stone. "But I will not just hand her over to you. I love her. Despite what happened, I still want to marry her. I've known for some time now of the feelings she harbors for you." Every muscle in Vilkas' body froze at his brother's words. Seeing his response, Farkas rolled his eyes. "Please, everyone knew about it."

Vilkas grimaced and looked down at his mead. "I didn't."

Farkas snorted. "And why would you? You never gave her the time of day."

Vilkas expression twisted. "It's true. I misjudged her from the very beginning. But I've realized my mistakes. I've come to see her for what she truly is. And I… I want her for my own."

Farkas sighed. "It'll be her decision, Vilkas. If you're the one she wants, then I'll let her go. And I hope you'll do the same."

Vilkas shot his brother a withering glare. "It's not that simple..."

Farkas gave his brother a sharp look. "It is. If you care for her, as you say you do, then you'll let her go if what she really wants isn't you."

_Let her go?_ Vilkas' body went taut and stiff, his eyes narrowing, his breath coming out in short pants at the mere thought. _But she is mine_, Vilkas thought darkly, possessively. _She touched me and I her. It's sealed. Done. I've claimed her as my own. No other man will have her. She is mine, and mine alone!_

"Agreed?" asked Farkas.

Vilkas was clenching his jaw so tight his teeth were grating and the muscle in his jaw hurt. He knew it would break him if she refused him, chose another over him. But, if she did want someone else… then he'd have to let her go, if that was what she truly wanted, despite the permanent damage it will do to his heart. "Aye," Vilkas hissed through clenched teeth. "We leave for Jorrvaskr at dawn."

Vilkas abruptly stood and snatched his key off the table before moving swiftly towards his room. Farkas saw a flash of white, and squinted his eyes, spotting Faye's white slipper tucked discreetly in his brother's back pocket. Farkas took a gulp of his mead, watching his brother disappear up the stairs. His silver eyes shifted to see Vilkas' tankard resting on the table. It was deeply indented, having been crushed in his hand. Farkas knew then just how much the girl meant to his brother.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Vipir entered the Ragged Flagon, wincing as he rubbed a hand over his bruised throat. Since it was past midnight, the tavern was dark and empty. The only patron was Brynjolf, who was sitting on a bar stool, resting his elbows casually on the bar, a bottle of Black-Briar Reserve beside him and a glass of it in his hand.

At his entry, Brynjolf turned his head and smirked. "So, you find your balls yet?"

"Yeah, found them in my pink clutch purse."

Brynjolf laughed. "It's about time. I was afraid I'd have to start calling you Vicky. So, how'd it go?"

"Good. You were right about her. She loved the flowers and the sapphire necklace I got her."

Brynjolf put a hand to his chest as if wounded. "Did you ever have any doubt?"

Vipir grinned. "I never doubt you, guild master," he replied as he took the seat beside the redhead.

Brynjolf snorted. "Nobody likes a kiss ass."

"Except the one who's ass is being kissed."

Brynjolf's pale green eyes slid to the other Nord and looked him over critically, his gaze lingering on the bruises around his neck. "Did Maven Black-Briar do that? Shit. I didn't think the old bat had it in her."

Vipir rubbed his neck self-consciously. "No, it wasn't her."

A devilish grin formed on the guild master's face. "Oh, I get it. So your woman turned out to be a tiger in bed. Good for you, lad."

"WHAT?!" Vipir shrieked. "No!"

"Hmm. Too bad. Well, you look like you could use a drink," Brynjolf said as he poured Vipir a glass of wine.

"That's just another way of saying I look like shit," Vipir muttered as he graciously took the offered glass.

"Well, you sure as hell don't look pretty," the redhead uttered with a sly smirk. "So, what happened?"

"Long story," Vipir mumbled as he took a sip of his wine. "Is Faye awake yet?"

Brynjolf's eyes lit up at the sound of her name and a genuine smile curved his lips. "She woke a few minutes ago actually, but the lass re-opened her wound and then passed out again."

Vipir suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. By the Nine, the man was so transparent. Vipir was glad for him, though. Brynjolf had been with Vex for ten years, _ten years_, until eight months ago when he found her in bed with Delvin. Seems the two had been sleeping around behind his back for nearly two years. But Brynjolf never once in all those years ever looked at Vex the way he looks at Faye. "Well, let me know when she wakes up, will ya?"

Brynjolf's pale green eyes flickered curiously to Vipir. "Why do you need to see her?"

Vipir rubbed his jaw. "Well, I've got a message for her."

Brynjolf's eyebrows rose. "Oh? What message?"

"Two Companions were looking for her. Told me to tell her that they were worried about her and would be returning to Jorrvaskr, waiting anxiously for her return," Vipir explained, intentionally leaving out certain details about the men looking for her.

Brynjolf looked into his wine glass, considering Vipir's words. He'd lost Faye once to his own stupidity, causing her to run away from him and join the Companions. He wasn't about to lose her again. Not now. Not when she was here, with him, back where she belonged. Together they would restore the Thieves Guild to its former glory. They were meant for each other. He was sure of it now. He'd screwed up before with her, he wasn't about to mess it up again. Or let someone else come in and ruin everything.

"I'll pass the message on to her," Brynjolf said casually, eyes riveted on the red liquid in his glass.

Vipir eyed Brynjolf deliberately as the man nonchalantly sipped his wine. Though his words had been casual, indifferent even, Vipir could tell by the slight quirk of his lips and the calculating look in the guild master's eye that Brynjolf had no intention of telling Faye anything.

Vipir suddenly felt himself fall into an awkward position. On the one hand, Faye was his friend and deserved to hear how the two Nords had been looking for her, especially concerning who they were. But on the other hand, if he passed the message along to Faye, he'd be going against his guild master, a decision that could wind up making his life miserable. Vipir weighed his options and then made a decision, though he wasn't sure it was the right one.

"Thanks, Brynjolf. I'm sure Faye will be glad to hear that the Companions have been worried about her."

Something flickered in the guild master's cunning eyes as he swirled his wine before taking a sip. "Hn."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 4**

_The grip on her bow was steadfast as she aimed and fired. The arrow soared through the air and sank into the practice dummy across the training room. With swift nimble fingers, __Faye pulled another arrow from her quiver, aimed, and released.__ Before the arrow hit the practice dummy, Faye rolled sideways on the ground, sat up on her knees, raised her bow, took aim, and fired. The moment the arrow left her fingers she was already rolling backwards over her shoulder and standing up on her feet, another arrow fired almost immediately after the first two. Faye was panting with the exertion as she watched all three arrows land in the dummy's chest, but nowhere near the heart - where she was aiming._

_Becoming frustrated and irritated, Faye's eyes narrowed in concentration. With tremendous speed, Faye pulled another arrow, released, and hit the dummy again. She reach back, pulled again, hit again. Pulled back. Hit. Pulled. Hit. Then pulled and hit again. But none of the arrows landed where she wanted them too. _

_Faye cursed under her breath and lifted a hand inside her hood to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her sneaking was better than Delvin's, there was no lock she couldn't pick, and she was the best pickpocket in the guild, but she still got her ass handed to her in a fight. She was sick of it. She was sick of being weak, sick of being dragged back to the thieves guild unconscious and bleeding, sick of being paired up with someone else because no one could rely on her getting a job done by herself. She refused to be the one who always needed saving, the one who couldn't hold her own. No more. She'd train every second of every day if she had too._

"_You're getting better, Faye."_

_Faye squeaked and spun around to find __Brynjolf__ walking languidly into the training room. Faye's heart began to beat covetously at the sight of him, just like it always did, and her cheeks felt warm from the sound of her name uttered in that alluring drawl of his. She was still getting used to Brynjolf actually knowing her name, much less to the nickname he'd adopted for her a few weeks ago that made every nerve in her body flare up as it rolled so tantalizingly off his tongue. _

_When she'd joined the thieves guild at the young age of twelve, she'd immediately fallen in love with Brynjolf. It was hard not too. Everyone loved him. He was handsome, charming, funny, talented, popular. She would watch the older boy longingly from afar, keep count of the number of times he spoke to her – which was not many - and dream of him while she slept. He was her first love, but her love was never returned. Brynjolf didn't even know she existed until they worked the Goldenglow Estate job together a few weeks ago. Besides, Brynjolf and Vex had been together for the past ten years. Still, __Faye dreamed of the day when Brynjolf would wake up and find that Vex wasn't the girl for him. _

"_You're up late," Brynjolf stated, his words slurring slightly as he moved leisurely into the room. His steps were agile and confident, but Faye noticed he didn't quite move as smoothly as he usually did. As the Nord moved into the room, the Breton was immediately hyperaware of him. Her leafy green eyes tracked his every move and ran over his handsome face and sinewy figure, her eyes lingering on the thick locks that were the color of fresh blood. _

_How desperately she wanted to touch those locks, to see if they were as thick and soft as they looked. Just once she wanted to run her fingers through his hair, be close enough to see all the colors in his sea green eyes, and drag a hand down that hard, rippling chest she knew was hidden beneath his newly acquired guild master armor. Faye quickly dispelled the lascivious images that were now racing through her mind and cleared her throat. "I need the practice," she replied, proud of herself for not stammering as her heart rate increased in response to his presence. _

_The Nord sniggered. "Yes, you do." _

"_Shut up," she snapped, scowling._

_A __lopsided grin__ grew on his face as he approached her. __Her body froze, her throat running dry, her palms sweating as he drew closer. Her breath caught when he brushed past her, his shoulder lightly touching hers. Faye's brows furrowed as she sniffed the air. Did he… did he smell like whiskey? Brynjolf never drank hard liquor. She couldn't help but wonder why. _

_Brynjolf strolled lethargically to the back corner of the room and sat casually on a barrel. Faye took a deep breath and forced herself to exhale, suddenly lightheaded. It was always like this when she was around him. Her body would clamp up at the very sight of him and her mind would melt into a puddle at any closeness. She was always so nervous just being in the same room as him. It'd gotten worse in the last few months since they'd started working together on finding out who was attacking the guild. She knew she was in real trouble when she actually fainted in his arms when he'd carried her back to Riften after Mercer had stabbed her at the __Snow Veil Sanctum a few days ago. _

"_Well, go on then," Brynjolf said with a smirk as he laced his hands behind his head and leaned back against the wall. "Show me what you've got, lass."_

_A shiver ran down her spine at the nickname. __Faye's chin turned towards him, her lust filled eyes slowly shifting to look at the tempting thief over her shoulder. She suddenly felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to throw her bow down on the ground and march over to him, grab him by the collar, pull him down to her and kiss him breathless. Really show him what she's got. She wanted to take this one chance, however stupid and foolish, and kiss him the way she'd never thought she would, in her entire life, be able to kiss him. But… she couldn't. Her courage was nowhere to be found, leaving her with nothing but her insecurities and thoughts of doubt. Besides, Brynjolf wouldn't want her to kiss him. He had Vex for that. _

_Faye tore her gaze from him and looked back at the dummy. She exhaled slowly and pulled her last arrow from her quiver, aimed, and released. The arrow sank into the dummy's foot. _

"_That was your worse shot yet. Is there something on your mind, lass? You seem… distracted." Faye's eyelids fluttered. His voice was like the whiskey he smelled like – smooth and rich yet lined with a roughness that caressed her spine in the most titillating way. _

_Oh, she was distracted alright. Painfully so. _

_Faye watched the Nord out of the corner of her eye as she walked over to the practice dummy and started removing the arrows sticking out of it. "So, what are you still doing here, Brynjolf?" she inquired. "I thought you were going to take Vex out before we left for Winterhold to speak with __Enthir?"_

_His provocative smirk immediately fell into a deep frown, his green eyes becoming tight and hard, his body coiling with tension. Faye's eyebrows rose at his odd behavior. His expression was hard to decipher. It spoke of anger, treachery, and underlying hurt. It was the same expression he wore when he learned that Mercer betrayed the guild. "Oh, I was."_

"_So, why didn't you?" __asked Faye as she pulled out another arrow, watching him attentively._

"_Oh, that's simple," he answered, his words clipped and his voice heavily laced bitterness and resentment. "I found her fucking __Delvin in my bed."_

_A gasp resounded throughout the training room and the arrows in the Breton's hand fell forgotten to the ground as she spun around to face him, astonished and disbelieving. "WHAT?!"_

_He turned his head to the side, averting his gaze. "Seems its been going on for the past two years." His words came out uncaring, but Faye could see the muscle in his jaw working._

_Faye __stared at his side profile for a moment in utter shock, not believing she had heard correctly. "Brynjolf, I'm… I'm so sorry," she said lowly in a soft, sympathetic voice._

"_Yeah… so am I," he mumbled ruefully._

_Faye didn't know what to say. What could she say? But the grief-stricken look on his face was starting to cause her pain, so she bent over and began collecting the arrows she had unintentionally dropped on the floor. When she stood she saw him reach behind the barrel he was sitting on and pull out a half empty bottle of whiskey. He twisted off the cap, letting it drop to the floor, and took a long pull on the bottle. _

_Faye's heart wrenched as she watched the man she loved, so full of heartache and pain, trying to drown his sorrows in the bottle pressed to his lips. Unable to stand the sight of his suffering, Faye put the last arrow in her quiver and then returned to her place across the room and faced the practice dummy. _

_Before she returned to her training, her jade orbs flickered to him. She was a little surprised to find him watching her closely. Very closely. She lifted her chin and said firmly, "You deserve better. You deserve to be with somebody who makes you happy. Somebody who appreciates just how truly wonderful you are. Somebody who won't hurt you. You deserve better than her. She doesn't love you like-" Faye cut herself off, swallowing her next word before it slipped her tongue, utterly horrified at what she almost confessed. _

_His eyes softened a bit, the sorrow diminishing slightly, and his lips tugged up at the corners into an endearing smile. "Like what, lass? _

_Faye blinked. __She must have been hallucinating, but she thought she heard a hint of… affection… in his tone. She had to have imagined it—longed for it. _

_The Breton quickly turned her gaze to the practice dummy across the room. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, drew her bowstring tight, and released. The arrow hit off center. Faye's arms fell heavy to her sides as a curse left her lips, disappointment sinking like a stone to the bottom of her stomach. She wasn't getting any better. She still sucked. She'd never be able to win a fight on her own. She was weak. Weak, weak, weak._

"_You're too tight," came Brynjolf's deep, alluring voice. "You need to loosen up." Faye looked at him over her shoulder with a questioning gaze. "Here, let me show you," Brynjolf said as he approached her slowly from behind. _

_Faye turned her attention back to the practice dummy. She __reached back and drew out an arrow from her quiver, but froze when __he pressed his body against hers from behind__. Her heart skipped a beat and she had to forcefully swallow the large lump that had suddenly lodged itself in her throat. A shiver crept down her spine when he slowly wrapped his arms around her, his hands coming to rest on top of her own. Faye's heart hammered violently in her chest as his dexterous fingers curled around her hands. Guiding __her with his hands, he gently moved her limbs into the proper positioning of setting her arrow and pulling __back the bowstring. _

_Faye's breath hitched when he moved in closer, his hips pressing against her rear, the heat of his body seeping into her own. Her mind seemed to fog over as her senses became filled with the scent of __cinnamon, juniper berries__, and whiskey. Faye bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering when his chin gently nudged her hood back a bit so that his mouth could hover just above her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin, tiny wisps of golden hair fluttering around her temple. _

"_Breathe, lass," he murmured, his voice like honey in her ear, as __a__ strand of crimson hair fell against her cheek._

_Obeying his command, Faye drew in a deep breath, her chest expanding, causing her body to press back into his._

_His lips brushed her ear. "That's a good girl." His voice was so smooth and silky it was like crushed velvet in her ear. "Now, release when you exhale."_

_Faye exhaled slowly and released, the arrow flew through the air and hit dead centre on the target. Faye let out a gasp of surprise and her bow fell forgotten to the floor. After a second of silence, she squealed happily and started jumping up and down, clapping her hands together gleefully. _

_Brynjolf chuckled as he stepped back, watching the young woman celebrate her achievement; happy he had a hand in her happiness. _

_Faye turned around and jumped at the Nord, her arms going around his neck as she hugged him to her as tight as she could. "Thank you, Brynjolf," Faye uttered into his chest, her feet dangling off the ground. "I really needed that."_

"_Don't thank me, lass," Brynjolf whispered against her hood as he held the petite woman in his arms. "It was all you."_

_Faye smiled into his chest and tightened her hold on him, but then she realized what she was doing and quickly pulled away, squirming in his arms. Brynjolf slowly lowered the tiny Breton until her feet touched the ground. Faye tried to back away, but Brynjolf's arms remained encircled around her, keeping her body pressed against his. _

_Faye's eyes slowly dragged up his body to meet his gaze. The __intensity she found there stole her breath away. Her chest rose and fell rapidly against his, as her pulse began to race. __The air around them was suddenly stifling, filled with a tension so electrically charged she could almost feel it spark against her skin. His hands travelled up her back, sliding under her cuirass, his warm fingers stroking her bare skin. Her body tensed instinctively as she watched his pale green eyes darken with an emotion she'd never seen aimed at her before. _

"_Brynjolf?" Faye asked quietly, her voice brimming with incomprehension and uncertainty. _

"_Lass…" __His voice had changed. It was deeper now, rougher, __overflowing with fervor and longing__._

_Brynjolf shifted closer and Faye felt her knees grow weak as she realized what he was about to do. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been dreaming of this for the last six years. But now that it was here, she found herself unbelievably frightened, nervous, and hesitant. _

_Faye's lips parted with a silent gasp when Brynjolf's hand slowly reached into her hood, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. He gently lifted her chin, tipping her head back so he could see her face for the first time, though the low lighting in the room kept most of her face cloaked in shadow. _

_Her dark ivy eyes were as big as saucers as they stared back at him with unmistakable fear and apprehension. Brynjolf's brows furrowed. "Why are you afraid, lass?" _

_Faye visibly swallowed. "Because I think you're about to kiss me."_

_His eyes searched hers, a stray lock of auburn hair falling in his eyes. "Why would that frighten you?"_

"_Because I've… I've never done it before," she answered quietly, her voice choked with emotion._

_Brynjolf's lips pulled into a devilish smirk and the hand on the small of her back curled into her armor. With a voice as smooth and sultry as sin, Brynjolf uttered, "So, I'm to be your first kiss, then?"_

_If at all possible, her eyes widened even further at his words. "A-Are you-u-u?" she asked, but her voice was so shaky that she doubted he could even understand what she was saying. _

_His darkened green eyes fell to her lips and his fingers brushed across the side of her neck inside of her hood to curl around the nape of her neck, holding her in place. Faye sucked in a sharp breath, her pulse racing wildly as Brynjolf leaned into her, that sinful smirk still on his face as he slowly brought his face down to hers. Shivers of anticipation were coursing through her as he closed the distance between them. Her body trembled when his lips brushed hers in the lightest of touches. It was so soft and gentle, a subtle caress of his mouth against hers, stealing her breath for his own._

_Faye closed her eyes, allowing him to support her weight as her knees weakened. __She could hear nothing but her own heartbeat roaring in her ears, could smell nothing but his scent, could taste nothing but the whiskey on his lips. _

_Brynjolf slowly released her lips as he pulled back slightly. His eyes were fixated on hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Faye was having trouble standing and remembering how to breathe at the same time. His hand left the back of her neck to slowly push her hood back, exposing her face and hair to him._

"_You're so beautiful," Brynjolf said breathlessly as his hand gently stroked her hair. "Hiding such beauty should be a crime, lass."_

_Faye's heart hammered against her chest. "You... you think I'm beautiful?"_

"_Devastatingly so," he replied in a husky whisper as his hand desperately wrapped itself in a coil around a golden strand, pulling her to him. "Give me your mouth again, lass," he rasped, his mouth slanting over hers. _

_His__ mouth moved expertly against her own, slowly easing her into the kiss. She responded slowly at first, then more and more eagerly. It still didn't feel real. Brynjolf was holding her, kissing her, and it was gentle and sweet and everything she'd dreamed it would be. This just couldn't be real._

_Her hands came up between them to rest on the toned muscle of his chest as she felt herself dissolve into him. With the press of her lips on his, she tried __to tell him all the things she could never say out loud, all the secrets in her heart that she'd been hiding for years. _

_His hand untangled from her hair and cupped her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the contour of her cheekbone, as if he was trying to tell her that he understood all she was trying to say without words. __Under his touch, she felt herself go liquid and pliant against him, __her lips parting in a sigh as his warm fingers dragged up her spine. As she kissed the man of her dreams, the man she'd loved for so long, any doubts or questions she had about whether they were meant for each other were abolished. _

_Heat began to spread throughout her limbs and she began to feel a clenching in her stomach. Needing to feel him against her, Faye instinctively dug __her fingers into his armor and pulled him close to her, until every inch of his body was pressed firmly against hers__. A deep groan reverberated in his chest. His hands knotted in her hair and the kiss stopped being gentle and became ardent and stormy, all in a single moment like a light rain into a downpour._

_He angled his head, running the warm tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. She gasped at the feel of his tongue on her lips and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, gliding it sinuously against hers. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.__ Faye's hands slid up his black leather cuirass, her fingers skimming over the many buckles and clasps, to grip his broad shoulders and kiss __him as passionately as he was kissing her__. _

_The hand on her bare back rounded her hip, his palm pressing against her stomach. Her muscles spasmed under his touch as his hand traveled higher under her armor, grazing over her belly button then her ribcage to cup the swell of her breast, sending a ribbon of desire straight to her core. Her hands wound into his russet hair and she whimpered against his lips when his thumb brushed over her nipple, her fingers flexing in his silken locks. _

"_Brynjolf?" Came the sound of Vex's voice in the distance. _

_The warmth of his body disappeared and Faye suddenly found herself kissing nothing but air. Confused, her eyes fluttered open to find Brynjolf standing a few feet away from her. __Faye stood, staring at him, her chest heaving, eyes wide and lips parted, her hands still raised in front of her where his body had been seconds before. __Her chest constricted tightly as she noticed the look of remorse on his face and shame in his eyes._

_That look... it cut her deeper than any blade she'd ever taken. It cut her right down to her very core. _

_Questions piled up in her mind faster than she could process them. Was she a bad kisser? Did he regret kissing her? Had everything been a lie? Was he ashamed to be seen with her? Or did he just not want Vex to know? _

_Faye sucked in a breath as she realized that was it. Vex. They were still together. He was still in love with her. Oh gods, she'd made a huge mistake. _

_Faye struggled hard to contain herself as they stood staring at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever until Vex appeared.__ The Nord woman's eyes immediately went to Brynjolf. "We need to talk."_

"_Aye," he answered, his eyes still on the Breton. He turned then, his eyes slowly dragging away from Faye's face, as he moved to Vex's side. _

"_Who was that?" Faye heard Vex ask __Brynjolf__, gesturing with a nod of her head to Faye as the two left the training room. Obviously, the woman hadn't recognized her with her hood down. _

"_Nobody," __Brynjolf __muttered in response, never seeing __the pained look that flickered to life on the Breton's face as his words tugged at a very vulnerable part of her. _

_As soon as they turned the corner and vanished from sight, Faye staggered back to lean against the wall and let out the breath she'd been holding. Something… something inside of her was breaking. Slowly. Painfully. The last time she'd felt such… such anguish… was when she was eight years old and she'd watched the life leave her mother's emerald eyes as her blood soaked Faye's cotton dress. _

_The Breton lifted a tremulous hand to her face as she held onto the wall for dear life, __her eyes __shedding blistering, heart-wrung tears. __She'd thought this had been it, her chance with him. __S__he'd thought he'd finally seen Vex for what she was, saw how wrong the Nord woman was for him. She'd thought he'd finally noticed her, that he really saw her, and realized he belonged with her. She'd thought there was something between them._

_She'd thought wrong. _

_He was just drunk. He was just using her to get back at Vex. She didn't mean anything to him. She never did. _

_Faye forced herself to swallow that bitter pill and s__he couldn't help the cry of anguish that escaped her lips as wretched emotions washed over her. _

_She'd wasted six years of her life being hopelessly and pathetically in love with a man who was in love with someone else. And now he knew how she felt. Now he would look at her everyday with pity in his eyes. And she'd have to see him… with her… everyday._

_Anger and bitterness and regret coursed red-hot in the Breton's veins and her hands curled into trembling fists of fury. _

_Screw that._

_She was done with it. All of it. Fed up. Finished. __She'd pined for him for too long. __It was about damn time she shed her chains to this place. To him. She needed a new town, a new home, a new life. She needed to start over, where no one knew her name, and leave this all behind her. She needed to break away. Now. Right now. _

_Seething, eyes burning with a deep green fire, __Faye hastily pulled a piece of parchment and charcoal from her pack and wrote down four words before marching over to one of the practice dummies. She pulled a dagger from her boot and stabbed the parchment into the dummy's face. She smirked at her own words before pulling on her hood and leaving the practice room for good._

_Brynjolf appeared minutes later in the practice room, looking for Faye, only to find the Breton gone and a note that read: Fuck you. I quit._

Faye slowly woke to the sound of logs popping in a fire and soft music playing, her dream of her first kiss slowing fading away. As the fog of sleep lifted from her mind, she stifled a groan. She had a splitting headache, her mouth was unbelievably dry, her skin was clammy, but her stomach didn't feel as though it had been ripped to shreds anymore.

Faye sat up slowly and put a hand to the bandages wrapped around her stomach. Her remarkably long blonde tresses spilled over her shoulders and wrapped around her waist. She lifted her eyes and looked around the room. The walls and floor were made of dark stone. Candlelight flickered around the room, highlighting an assortment of priceless pieces of art and exquisite décor scattered about. The room was neat and very clean – no dust, no clutter, no pieces of clothing on the floor. The bed she was in was large with luxurious cream-colored sheets. The room was so wonderfully warm from the open fire that cracked and popped in the nearby fireplace.

"Good morning, beautiful," came a familiar, masculine voice.

Faye whipped her head around to find the man she never wanted to see again. Brynjolf was sitting languidly in a wooden chair beside the bed, his hands laced behind his head, a lazy grin spread across his face. As she looked at him, a bittersweet ache bloomed in her heart. She hadn't seen him in eight months, not since the night she quit the guild. Her eyes narrowed when she took in his appearance. He was wearing his black guild master armor, which complimented his pale green eyes. His flaming locks were longer now, she noted, resting at his shoulders, and he had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days.

"Where am I?" Faye asked quietly, unsure of how to act in his presence – this man who was her first love and first heartbreak.

Sea green eyes peered closely at her from under stray locks of rust-colored hair. "Guild Master's private quarters at the thieves guild headquarters."

"So, your room," she amended dryly. Faye felt a slight chill and looked down to find herself completely naked. She squeaked and quickly pulled the sheet up to cover herself.

"Damn, I rather liked the free peep show you were giving me, lass," Brynjolf said with a wicked smirk on his face as his eyes remained on her chest.

"Pervert," she muttered as she picked a piece of lint off the sheet and flicked it away, her cheeks blushing a furious shade of red.

He chuckled. "Only for you."

Her eyes flickered to him guardedly, lips set in a firm line. Was he… was he hitting on her when he was still with Vex? Gods, he was more of an asshole than she remembered. "How long have I been out?"

"Three days."

"Three days…" Faye whispered to herself. Three days ago she was in the Temple of Mara, in her wedding dress, about to marry one of her dearest friends. And then Vilkas… memories of him and her together came rushing back to her and she had to close her eyes to rid herself of the lascivious images that assaulted her mind. She felt heat bloom on her cheeks in response to her memories. She shouldn't be thinking of such things right now. They were too close to her heart, and too heartrending. "So, it was you who rescued me?"

He rubbed his jaw. "Aye. I saw you running like a scared little field mouse from that wolf. Figured I should do something. Though, to be honest, I didn't know it was you at the time."

Faye opened her eyes to find Brynjolf staring at her, intently, as if sketching the details of her face to memory with his eyes. Faye started to grow uneasy under his heavy gaze. "What?" She finally blurted out self-consciously.

Brynjolf blinked and seemed to come back to himself from whatever trance he seemed to have been in. "Sorry, lass, it's just... I've never seen you without your hood on before."

Faye snorted. He'd seen her face before. He'd just been too drunk at the time to remember it. The memories of that night only made her bitter and resentful. They were like poison. She forced them from her mind.

"Anyways, that's why I didn't recognize you when you were being chased by that wolf," Brynjolf explained.

Faye couldn't help the blush that spread on her face and neck as she clutched the sheet closer to her naked chest, and responded wryly, "And now you've seen all of me."

An impish grin formed on his lips and there was a strange glint in his pale green eyes that made her involuntarily shiver. "Aye, now I have."

She glared at him, accusingly. She hated that look, hated how it still had an effect on her. Gods, she hated how he could still get under her skin after everything she'd done to rid herself of the feelings she harbored for him. Her eyes tightened, becoming dangerous, and her words came out rigid and clipped, "So, Brynjolf, there'd better be a good reason as to why I'm naked in your bed?"

His eyes glinted mischievously. "Don't worry, lass. I mostly had honorable intentions." He suppressed the chuckle that wished to escape him at the nasty glare she was giving him. "I had to clean those gashes on your stomach before I could tend to them. I bathed you and then wrapped your stomach after treating it with herbs. I also had you drink a few healing potions, so you should be completely healed by tomorrow."

Her anger faded slightly. "I guess I should thank you."

With a crooked grin he answered, "I guess you should."

She smiled graciously at him. "Thank you."

Brynjolf's hand lifted and rested gently on her knee on top of the thin sheet, his smile warm and his eyes soft. "Of course, lass."

Her pulse sped up. The soft pressure of his warm hand resting upon her knee consumed her awareness. Faye tried to deny the way his genuine smile, soft eyes, and gentle touch made her feel. She figured old habits died hard. "So, what did you do with my clothes?"

Brynjolf's hand pulled away from her knee and Faye let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. The guild master stood and walked over to his dresser. "What? This thing?" He asked holding up her ruined wedding dress.

Faye grimaced at the ghastly sight of it. It had been a gift from Farkas, the only gift she'd ever been given and the only clothing she had beside her armor, and now look at it. It was ruined. It had three large gashes in it from where the dragon had slashed her stomach and was covered in her dried blood. Faye tried not to think of the other stains she knew were on it from being with Vilkas.

Brynjolf looked down at the dress in his hands. "So… what do you want me to do with it?"

Faye tore her watering eyes from the dress. She didn't deserve that dress, not after what she'd done. "Burn it."

Brynjolf shrugged and tossed it into the fire. Faye watched the flames devour the white silk. "What were you doing in a white dress anyway?" Brynjolf asked offhandedly as he fell into the chair beside the bed again.

Faye cleared her throat. "It was my wedding dress."

The Nord blanched as his mind skidded to a halt. He blinked several times at the Breton, as his mind seemed to cave in on itself. Once her words truly sank in and made sense to him, he exploded, "Your WHAT?!"

Her eyes continued to watch the flames. "You heard me."

When no response came for some time, her forest green eyes slid to his. His face was white, as if all the blood had been drained from it, his mouth was slightly open, and he seemed to have stopped breathing. "Does that mean... that... that you're...?" Brynjolf uttered ineloquently, which was unusual for him.

"I didn't get married."

Faye saw his broad shoulders sag in relief, color returning to his face. "What happened?"

Her eyes fell to her lap. "I don't want to talk about it."

Brynjolf frowned thoughtfully. "So… you were going to get married... without telling me?"

Her gaze lifted to meet his, her face hard and her eyes cold. "Yes. And why do you care anyway? It's not like I mean anything to you. You made that perfectly clear the last time I saw you."

His eyes flashed. "How can you say that to me?"

She shrugged, feigning indifference. "Because it's true."

"You know nothing of the truth," he hissed with indignation. "And do you wanna know why, lass? Because you never wished to learn it! You have refused to speak to me for the past eight months and have returned all my letters!"

"Because I do not wish to hear your lies!" Faye shot back, emerald eyes burning with ire. "You are the master of deceit, deception, and manipulation. You wield words like they are swords. I do not wish to be pierced by them, _again_!"

"What you know is wrong!" Brynjold shouted, his strong hands shooting out, grabbing her upper arms and shaking her, wanting to force the truth into her thick, stubborn skull. "You ran from something you did not understand! If you'd just give me a fucking second to explain everything you'll know that you've been wrong about-!"

"Shut up!" Faye shrieked, her legs kicking wildly as she twisted and jerked violently out of his hold. "Shut up! Shut up! _Shut up_!"

Brynjolf reluctantly released her. Faye quickly reeled in her temper, not wanting to get into this now. She sighed and bowed her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. The tension behind her eyes was building and starting to form a migraine. "If we're going to fight, Brynjolf, then I'm going to leave."

Faye started when she felt long fingers curl around her wrist, gently pulling her hand away from her face. "Don't." His voice was barely a whisper.

Faye looked up at him. "Don't what?"

"Leave." His face was so open, so vulnerable, his light green eyes pleading. "Please…" Brynjolf whispered again as he released her wrist, his fingers lacing with her own. "Stay."

Faye's gaze lowered to their joined hands. His skin was rough and calloused, much tanner than her own, and his hand dwarfed hers in comparison. Keeping their fingers entwined, he turned their combined hands over and placed a lingering kiss on the palm of her hand. Those beseeching eyes lifted to hers again as he placed her palm on his cheek, his hand resting on top of her own. "Stay."

Faye's eyes softened and a small smile graced her pink lips as she cupped his cheek. His panicked and fearful expression melted into one of warmth and affection as he leaned into her touch. She splayed her fingers and lightly dragged her fingertips down his cheek, feeling the slight scrape of stubble against the pads of her fingers. In that moment she knew it was true: you never truly get over your first love.

Coming back to herself, the Breton quickly pulled her hand from his skin and folded her hands in her lap, biting her lip.

"You must be starving, lass," he uttered in a low voice edged with tension and rigidity, the hand that had touched her flexing involuntarily at his side. "Let's go to my place for lunch. I'll make you roasted chicken, rosemary potatoes, and snowberry pie - your favorite. How bout it?"

Her eyebrows rose. "You bought Honeyside Manor?"

His bottle green eyes softened on her. "Aye. Just like I told you I would."

Faye smiled brightly at him. "Congratulations, Brynjolf. I know how much that house means to you."

"To _us_, lass. To _us_," he uttered, his voice filled with so much meaning and promise.

A moment of hesitation drew a frown from the girl. Why did he keep saying things like that? Did he enjoy teasing her with something she couldn't have? Not like she still wanted him anyway. She'd forced herself to start a new life, to get over him, and had fallen in love with Vilkas. Too bad he'd also left her the moment she'd kissed him for a Nord woman. That was the pattern in her love life. It seemed life had a cruel sense of humor, giving her the thing she always wanted just to rip it from her moments later. Twice.

"Come on, lass. I'll show it to you."

Faye shook her head. "I can't. I need to go to Jorrvaskr to see the Companions as soon as possible," she said before mumbling to herself, "even if they all hate me right now."

He tilted his head to the side. "Why would they hate you?"

Faye sighed, miserably. "Because I hurt one of their own."

"What? Oh… he's one of them. The groom, I mean. He's a Companion, isn't he?"

"Yes," she whispered as her eyes went to the fire. "I hurt him, Brynjolf. The look on his face…" Her voice caught and her eyes burned with fresh tears. "The Companions must hate me for what I did. They probably want anything to do with me now. _He_ probably never wants to see me again. I know that the best thing to do is to resign from being a Companion. I'm sure that's what they all want me to do, anyway. And even though it breaks my heart, I can accept that. I deserve it." Her eyes met his, so full of sadness and shame that something inside of him wrenched painfully. "But I have to apologize to him. He deserves that much from me. So, I'm going to leave immediately, face them all, and apologize for what I've done."

The Nord turned his head, his eyes shifting restlessly, a calculating look on his face as his mind raced. After a few minutes, his eyes met hers again. "You know, it might be beneficial for you to stay here for a few more days."

She eyed him quizzically. "Why?"

"Because this groom of yours may need a few days to cool his blood."

Faye gaped at him before shouting, "But I need to apologize to him. It can't wait. I feel as if I'm burning alive with guilt!"

The redhead held his hands up in a placating manner. "I understand, lass. But the worst thing would be for you to return and have him say things he doesn't mean simply because he was still angry with you."

Faye bit her lip as she thought. Maybe it was a good idea to give Farkas some time. Maybe he couldn't stand the sight of her right now. Maybe none of them could. The image of Vilkas standing with his arm around Aela's waist entered Faye's mind and she felt a piece of her heart fracture. Maybe _she_ wasn't the one ready to see _them_ just yet. Maybe she needed some time to close the gaps in her heart again before she faced them.

"Alright," Faye muttered, nodding. "I'll stay for a few days before heading to Whiterun."

His lips curled into a victorious grin. "Good. Now, get dressed, lass. I want to show off my new place."

Faye looked at him questioningly as the only article of clothing she had was now burning in the fireplace. "What do I wear?"

"I rather like you in nothing, lass," Brynjolf answered slyly while eyeing her like a piece of candy he wished to roll around in his mouth. Faye glared at him and he grinned in response, liking the wildfire that was dancing across her forest green eyes. "Fine, fine. Your armor's over there," the Nord said with a wave of his hand at the chair in the corner that had her armor resting neatly on top of it. Her pack was lying on the floor beside the chair and her weapons were leaning against the wall. "Vipir retrieved your stuff for you, though he never said from where."

And for that, Faye was thankful. She didn't want to get into a discussion with Brynjolf about the reason why she had to flee the Temple of Mara without first grabbing her armor, weapons, and pack. She wouldn't be able to stand the look of disgust and revulsion on his face when he learned that she'd slept with her betrothed's brother on her wedding day. She wouldn't be able to stomach it, not from him. She'd have to thank Vipir for his discretion next time she saw him. As Faye eyed her armor, she tilted her head to the side and said, "It looks different."

He laughed. "That's because it's clean, lass."

She gaped at him mockingly. "_You_, the great and powerful guild master, washed _my_ armor?"

"Aye, but technically it's _my_ armor. I can't believe I used to fit in that thing." He flashed her a roguish grin. "And I can't believe you still wear it." He leaned into her and Faye clutched the sheet tighter to her naked chest. "Like having my scent on you?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Brynjolf. It doesn't smell like depravity anymore," Faye uttered harshly, but the blush that had risen on her cheeks contradicted her words.

He grinned boyishly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "That's not what I smell like, and you know it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said I smell like cinnamon and juniper berries," he answered, lightly grazing the back of her hand with a sly touch of his thumb.

"I did not!" She exclaimed, pulling her hand away.

He smirked. "You did. Three days ago."

"Regardless," Faye continued, flustered at having admitted such a thing to him in her nearly unconscious state. "I wear your armor because it's the only armor I own. That's it."

He gave her a pointed look. "You could get new armor, lass. So why haven't you?"

Faye sighed. "I have no money. I spent every last septim I had on… assassins."

He barked out a laugh. "What?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "I hired the Dark Brotherhood for something. Companion business."

"You know, there's a set of brand spankin' new Nightingale armor and weapons just waiting for you. If you were to accept them, of course."

Faye's expression became stern. "I went over this with Karliah. My answer is no."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "We need your help with Mercer, lass. We're running out of time."

"Here we go," Faye grumbled to herself as she folded her arms as well and leaned back against the headboard.

"Karliah and I can't kill Mercer on our own. We need you. We know his plans. At the end of the week, he plans to steal the Eyes of the Falmer. We have to stop him, and kill him for his treachery. The bastard almost killed you for fuck sake! I can't just let that go!"

Faye gave the Nord a sharp look. "You want me to swear to protect Nocturnal and her shrines, even after death. I can't do that, Brynjolf."

The Guild Master ran a hand through his deep crimson hair. "It won't change anything, lass. We may become Nightingales, but in our hearts we'll still be thieves and we'll always be damn good at what we do."

"I'm sorry, Brynjolf," she muttered and shook her head. "I can't become a Nightingale. I care about what happens to my soul."

Brynjolf rolled his eyes and huffed. "You've been hanging around those Companions for too long."

Blonde eyebrows pulled together. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're not some grandiose, honor-bound warrior, Faye. You're a thief - a rogue who lives in the shadows, is thrilled by the heist, thirsts for gold, fights dirty, wields deception, and cheats the odds. You can't change that. It's in your blood. Just like it's in mine." His lips lifted into a tiny smirk as he leaned his upper body forward, arms still folded, his pale green eyes dancing in the light of the fire. "You're just like me, lass. We're two of a kind. We've got something, you and I," he finished in a low and intimate voice.

Faye's expression instantly turned cold and stony as her mind returned to the memory of her first kiss like a tongue to a chipped tooth. Did he think she was still pinning for him? Did he honestly believe that she'd been hung up on him for the past eight months? That all he had to do was flash her that winning smile and throw a few pick-up lines her way and she'd swoon at his feet?

Well, he had another thing coming.

Bristling, Faye's hardened gaze fixed on the guild master. "You don't know me, Brynjolf. Don't make the mistake of assuming you do. Once upon a time I wished for nothing but your attention, your time, your affection. I made the mistake of believing you actually felt something for me before. I was naïve then, but I'm not anymore. Believe me when I say that I will not be making that same mistake again," she uttered with great acrimony, eyes as cold as ice. "You care nothing for me. Don't insult me by pretending you do."

Brynjolf's grin faded instantly, his eyes becoming hollow, his lips set in a firm, thin line. "I care for nothing else," he answered evenly.

The Breton averted her gaze. She hated how he still rankled her. She'd already forced herself to come to terms with the fact that Brynjolf had returned to Vex months ago. But the fresh remembrance of the heartbreak, jealousy, and vexation she'd felt after he'd kissed her was still able to enkindle bitterness and resentment within her, even after all these months.

"Sure. Whatever," Faye mumbled with a roll of her eyes. Shaking off the memories, she stood swiftly with the sheet wrapped around her to cover her nakedness. A wave of vertigo crashed into her. She put a hand to her forehead as she swayed a little, long blonde tresses spilling over her slender shoulders.

Brynjolf moved swiftly to her side and grabbed her hand to keep her steady. The vexation in the Nord's face had evaporated, replaced by a look of such profound concern that the Breton was taken aback by it. "Are you alright, lass?"

Faye ripped her hand away from his as if his touch had burned her, green eyes flashing with ire. "I'm fine," she grumbled, her fingers digging into her collarbone as she clutched the sheet even tighter to her body.

Brynjolf eyed her skeptically, unconvinced that she was fine, but decided not to push. "Look, there's a lot we need to talk about, but it can wait. You haven't had a real meal in three days. You need to eat."

Faye nodded.

"Good," he said as he turned and headed for the door. "Now, get dressed and we'll head over to my place for lunch and a hot bath. I'll be at my desk. Come get me when you're ready to go," he finished, closing the door behind him.

A smile formed on Brynjolf's lips. For the past eight months he'd feared that he was too late, that the love she had for him was gone forever. But right now he had hope. He had a few days with her. A few days to clear up the mess he'd made and explain what really happened. A few days to show her that she belonged with the thieves guild. A few days to show her that he was the one for her. He knew the reason she didn't get married was because deep down she still loved him. He just had to make her realize it. And she would. He'd make sure of it.

Faye's smile slowly faded, as she stood alone in Brynjolf's room. She was still rattled by all that had just transpired between them. Being around him was just as nerve-racking as it was before. Damn him. She loathed how he still had that power over her. It wasn't fair.

Not wishing to think of her first love anymore, Faye moved to the chair with her armor and let the sheet fall. She looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror beside the chair. Her fingers brushed over the now unmarred skin on her stomach. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she tried to see what Vilkas saw when he took her body and soul, mindless with lust. The health potions had cleared all the marks he'd made on her body, but she could still feel the way his lips pulled on her skin, the way his nails dug into her hips, the way his fingers pinched and stroked, the way his teeth grazed her flesh.

Heat suddenly blossomed within her. That warmth began to flourish as her hand absentmindedly trailed down her stomach, her mind lost to the memories of Vilkas worshipping her body on the wooden vanity. Her eyelids fluttered shut and her head tipped back when her fingers brushed between her legs, her lips parting slightly as she drew in a sharp breath. Behind her eyelids she saw Vilkas' face as he took her, heard his husky voice whispering in her ear, tasted his lips on her tongue, felt his heart beat in concert with her own…

Faye heard a low shuddering moan and her eyes snapped open as she realized it was her own voice making the needy sound. She suddenly realized what she was doing and her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped into them.

What was she doing?! She'd never done anything like that before?! And doing… that… while thinking of Vilkas?! That was the last thing she needed to be doing! He was gone. Out of her grasp forever. He was Aela's. He was never hers. Always Aela's. Forever Aela's.

Blushing furiously and angry with herself for thinking about _him_, Faye quickly put her thief armor back on, trying desperately to ignore the terrible ache within her that only Vilkas could fulfill. Her time spent with Vilkas had been so short, mere hours, yet there was a lingering fire within her even days later, as if he'd struck a match inside of her, lighting a flame for him and him alone. But she was simply longing for something she could never have. She didn't know what had moved him to kiss her in the first place, but she sensed it wouldn't move him again.

Her vision blurred, as she suddenly felt discarded, hollow, and lonely. Faye shook her head and forced her mind to think of something else. Once she was dressed in her thief armor, she quickly gathered her pack and weapons. She walked out Brynjolf's bedroom and looked around. She'd never thought she'd ever be back here at the thieves guild headquarters.

After she'd quit the guild, she'd been arrested by the Imperial Legion and sentenced to death in Helgen. Of course, she'd been ironically saved by Alduin and later found out she was Dragonborn. She'd decided then that she didn't want to be a thief anymore. She wanted to be something better. She wanted to be strong, virtuous, and honorable. She wanted to be worthy of the title Dragonborn. She wanted to be a good guy. She wanted to be a hero. So, she'd joined the Companions. It was there, with the Companions, that she'd gotten her first real taste of what a family felt like. The life she'd build with them… it meant everything to her. And even if she wasn't welcome back to Jorrvaskr, even if they kicked her out of the Companions, and even if none of them ever spoke to her again, she still couldn't get herself to regret being with Vilkas. Being with him… it had been the single greatest moment of her life. And even though she'd just been a means of venting out his sexual impulses and nothing else, she still didn't regret it. She never would. She'd gotten a piece of him. A small piece, but a piece nonetheless. And even though she would only get to have him that one time, she'd always hold the memories close to her heart, never letting them fade away.

Faye pulled her hood over her head, hiding her tear-stained face from the world as she'd done ever since she was eight years old and taken to the orphanage in Riften.

She would return to Jorrvaskr in a few days. She'd apologize to Farkas, and hopefully douse the burning guilt buried deep within her soul. She'd apologize to the other Companions as well. And… she'd see Vilkas. Her heart roused with the thought. She knew it would kill her to see him back with Aela, but she couldn't ignore how her heart and soul yearned unremittingly to see his face. If they told her to leave and to never return, she would. But she wouldn't hide here, she'd face them, and pray to the gods that they'd be able to find it within their hearts to forgive her.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 5**

Vilkas climbed out of the carriage, Farkas right behind him, tossing the driver a few septims before turning and heading towards the gates of Whiterun.

They were tired, hungry, and dirty. The trip from Riften to Whiterun had been long and tedious, and Farkas had poked fun at his brother for his relentless brooding. The whole trip back Vilkas couldn't help but think he'd made the biggest mistake of his life by leaving Faye behind. He felt like whatever they started was now slipping through his fingers.

He'd known a Breton named Faye Ashhart for months, but was blind to her. She was something he'd never seen, but now that he had, was everything he'd ever wanted. She was beautiful without knowing it, possessed a loveliness even a god would be envy of. Anyone lucky enough to have seen her face has known true beauty. But her beauty was just one of the appealing qualities she possessed that had him utterly enraptured. He was moved by the goodness in her heart that he'd failed to see before. He was fascinated with her easy charm and sweet disposition, drawn to her compassion and grace, in awe of the gentleness she instilled in her every touch, every smile, every glance. Now that he was no longer blind to her, he didn't want her out of his sight. Not being with her was killing him. He had to constantly remind himself that she would return to Whiterun in a day or two. That she'd return to him.

Minutes later, the brothers entered the city of Whiterun. The sun was beginning to set, but the city was still bustling with life. Adrianne was forging a hammer just outside of Warmaiden's, Ysolda was haggling with a Khajiit trader, Lars Battle-Born was playing Hide and Seek with Braith. Vilkas took in the sight with a sigh of relief. He'd missed Whiterun.

As they walked through the streets, both brothers couldn't help but chuckle at the open gawking they were receiving from the women of the city as a result of their attire, or lack there of. They were still wearing the tight black pants they'd bought from the Khajiit in Riften, but nothing else. The multiple holes in their tattered shirts had expanded during their travel until they were no longer wearable.

They both pushed open the front doors of Jorrvaskr, smiling at the feeling of being home. All of the Companions were sitting at the dinner table and their heads lifted to identify the new arrivals. All conversation in the room died out as the doors closed behind the brothers. All eyes landed on Farkas first, each filled with pity and sympathy. Then all eyes slid over to Vilkas, each pair filled with nothing but disgust and resentment.

_Well… that's not good_, Vilkas thought grimly, though he expected nothing different.

Torvar was the first to stand. His gaze was locked on Vilkas, his face contorted with anger and revulsion. The Nord marched up to him, pulled his elbow back, and let his fist collide solidly with Vilkas' jaw causing his head to snap to the side. Vilkas lifted his hand to his jaw and slowly turned to face Torvar. His silver eyes narrowed dangerously, the black war paint around his eyes and the stray locks of onyx hair hanging in his face making him look feral and deadly.

"Your brother may be too damn kind-hearted to hit you for what you did, but I sure as hell ain't. You fucking deserved that, you bastard!" Torvar shouted in Vilkas' face. "You don't take another man's woman!"

Vilkas' threatening expression faded into one of guilt. "Aye. I deserved that."

Torvar shoved him. "Yeah, you fucking did!"

Vilkas' hands curled into fists at his sides. "Anyone else got something to say?" Vilkas asked flatly as he turned to face the rest of them. "Get it out now while you can."

"Nah, that hit was from all of us," Ria muttered with a small, sad smile. A few people started asking them questions, wondering why they'd taken so long to return home, when Aela stood and everyone fell silent. She slowly walked around the table, making her way towards Vilkas. Her eyes never left his and her mouth was set in a thin line. Her eyes appeared sunken and hollow, yet there was a red wrath hidden in the shadows of her eyes. She stopped only when she was right in front of him, her lips curling into a fierce glare.

_Slap_.

The sound rang sharp and clear in the silent mead hall. Vilkas slowly turned his head to look at her, his cheek bright red from the force she put behind her open palm. One tear slid down her cheek, smearing her war paint slightly, and then she launched herself at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him down to her, her lips crashing over his. Before Vilkas could push her away, she was already stepping back and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned on her heel and hurried for the stairs to the living quarters, all of the other women following after her. They huddled around her like overexcited hens, prodding incessantly for details on how she was feeling.

Torvar sneered at Vilkas. "I can't believe she's actually forgiving you. You don't deserve a woman like Aela. You better treat her right from now on, Harbinger, or the next time I won't just hit you once." Torvar grabbed Athis and the two left out the back into the practice yard.

Dumbstruck and utterly confused, Vilkas turned to face Farkas. "What the hell was that all about?"

Farkas shrugged. "They're just protective."

Vilkas rubbed his jaw, dark eyebrows drawn together. "Yeah, but what was Aela's problem? And what the hell was Torvar talking about?"

Farkas blinked at his brother, puzzled and a little angry with him for being so callous. "Well, you did cheat on her, brother. I'd say she responded pretty well. To be honest, I was expecting worse."

Vilkas' mouth fell open in shock. "Cheated on her?"

Farkas rolled his eyes at his brother's display of bewilderment. "Oh, drop the act, Vilkas. We all know you two have been together for weeks now."

Vilkas' incomprehension and irritation began mixing with volatile anger inside of him and he burst out, "I'm not with Aela! Who the hell told you that?!"

Farkas scratched his head, eyebrows furrowed. "Well, Faye saw you and Aela together. Remember? The morning after Kodlak died when she tried to apologize to you. We all just assumed you two were together after that, especially with the way Aela spoke about it."

Vilkas froze, his previous frothing blood running cold as a dismal sense of fear, panic, and emptiness crashed over him. He'd been with Aela, yes, but only that one time, and it hadn't been romantic at all. It was merely two friends seeking comfort in each other when the world seemed dark and bleak, when he'd just lost Kodlak and when he'd thought he'd never be cured of his curse. If they all thought he was in a relationship with Aela, then that meant that Faye…

Vilkas felt his heart drop in his chest as the pieces fell into place. He groaned and dropped his head in his hands. "Shor's blood!"

"What?" asked Farkas, not understanding.

Vilkas dug his palms into his eyelids. "Gods, fuck it! Fuck it all! Fucking fuck-"

"What?!" Farkas yelled, growing impatient.

Vilkas lifted his head and met his brother's gaze. Farkas was surprised to find his brother looking so distressed, so sad, so repentant. "Don't you see? That means Faye thinks I'm with Aela! That means that right now she thinks the Companions all hate her, that you hate her, and that I'm with someone else… that I don't care about her! **FUCK!**" A growl escaped his chest as his fist shot out, knuckles connecting with the bite of the wooden wall, splintering it, placating his rage. "I shouldn't have left! I shouldn't have fucking left without her! I should have torn that city apart until I found her!" Vilkas ranted and raved, his agony and anger and vexation pouring out of him.

Farkas put a hand on his hip. "I don't get what the big deal is. So, she's mistaken. We'll sort it all out when she returns."

"_If_ she returns!" Vilkas snapped heatedly. "Right now, she probably thinks it's better if she doesn't!"

Farkas' expression fell and his eyes shifted to the ground as he thought. "She'll return," Farkas said quietly, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"I'm going back," Vilkas stated firmly as he moved swiftly towards the living quarters.

"I'm coming with you," Farkas said, falling in step with his brother.

"No." Vilkas spun around to face Farkas. "I need you here, acting as Harbinger while I'm away."

Farkas laughed. "No one is going to let me play Harbinger. You know that. The only one they'll follow besides you is Aela."

Vilkas growled in annoyance. "Fine. You tell Aela she's acting Harbinger while we're gone. Pack when you're done and meet me by the doors."

Fifteen minutes later, the twins were dressed in their wolf armor, swords strapped to their backs, and each carrying a pack of spare clothes, food, and potions. Once they were out of the gates of Whiterun, they headed for the stables to retrieve their horses when four Whiterun guards came running up to them.

"Harbinger!" One guard yelled.

"What?!" Vilkas snapped not turning to face them, his fast pace not slowing with their approach.

"Three dragon's just attacked Riverwood!" Vilkas stopped dead in his tracks, Farkas beside him. "They've been spotted heading this way! The Jarl has ordered us to seek out the aid of the Dragonborn and the Companions to fight them!"

Vilkas turned his chin, looking at the guards behind him over his shoulder. "The Dragonborn isn't in the city."

Four pairs of eyes widened in fear. "Then you must help us, Harbinger!"

Farkas looked at his brother. His body was as stiff as a plank, his hands fisted at his sides, jaw clenched so tight Farkas could see the muscle working in his cheek, and a war of conflicts raging in his eyes. A few seconds later, Vilkas' eyes set firmly with determination, decision clearly made, and he began moving towards the stables again.

Farkas grabbed his brother's arm and whispered in his ear, "We can't just leave Whiterun. The people need us to defend it."

"I'm going," Vilkas stated resolutely in a low and hard voice, shrugging off his brother's hand.

Farkas' voice became unyielding, "We are Companions and you are our Harbinger. Don't become blind to what it is we stand for."

"**I WILL NOT LOSE HER!**" Vilkas roared at his brother, his expression determined and fierce, silver eyes flashing with unmistakable frustration, anger, and on the edges fear. His last word came out as a guttural growl as his body shook violently, his nails growing into claws, his canine's morphing into sharp fangs.

Farkas stepped in front of his brother, blocking the guards' view of him as he struggled with his inner beast. "Vilkas, calm your fire," Farkas whispered harshly, cagily eyeing the guards over his shoulder. "Calm yourself and think for a second, brother."

Vilkas breathed deeply, and slowly regained control of himself. His hands unclenched and his head hung heavily on his shoulders as if he could no longer bear its weight. He looked so tired, so strained, his expression nothing but black melancholy. "I can't think of anything but her." His words were barely above a whisper, and the only reason Farkas had caught them was because of his heightened sense of hearing from his beast blood.

"Then listen to me. Faye is just one person, one person that isn't going anywhere. She's safe with her guild. But there are thousands of people in the city that aren't safe right now, and they need your help." Vilkas was still not convinced until Farkas grasped his shoulder and said gently, "Faye would want you to protect the city."

Vilkas' eyes closed in defeat. "Aye. She would."

Farkas gave his brother's shoulder a gentle squeeze before asking, "So, Harbinger, what do we do about these dragons?"

Vilkas' eyes snapped open and he faced the guards. "Return to the Jarl and tell him to send as many guards as he can spare. I'll gather the other Companions and meant the Jarl's guards at the city gates in thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir!" The guards exclaimed before turning and running for Dragonsreach.

"Come on, Farkas. We must gather the others," Vilkas said firmly as he ran towards the gates along side his brother.

Farkas looked at his brother as he ran. "Should be leave someone behind to watch over Jorrvaskr?"

"Aye. We'll leave Aela," Vilkas replied. As he ran, his anger and aggravation and panic dimmed slightly when he remembered the letter he'd written Faye the morning he left for Whiterun. He'd written it at the inn and given it to a messenger in Riften. He paid a lot of coin to make sure it got to her and her alone. He could only hope that she'd received it by now. At least then she'd have some idea of how he felt about her.

_Hold on, Faye. Hold on. I'll be coming for you soon. Just hold on for me. Please don't do anything stupid until I come for you, like get yourself killed or board a ship to High Rock or fall for someone else. I'll be there soon. I'll be coming for you. Please don't give up on me._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Faye finished off her snowberry pie, rubbed her belly and sighed in satisfaction. "I'm stuffed. I can't eat another bite."

"Damn, I'm good." Brynjolf smirked as he stretched his frame out on the seat closest to her at his dinner table in Honeyside Manor. His eyes flickered to her, full of mirth. "Tell me what a wonderful cook I am, lass."

Faye laughed. "Sweet Mara, you're one arrogant prick, aren't you?"

"It's not arrogance if it's true," he replied with a cocky grin.

She scoffed. "You are unbelievable."

His smirk deepened. "I know. I used to be too modest, but I worked at it and now I'm perfect."

The Breton burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. "You are such a pompous ass!"

Brynjolf's hand came to rest on top of hers on the table. "Come on, tell me I'm the best, lass."

Faye's eyes rolled as she removed her hand from his. "Fine, fine. You're cooking was more than satisfactory."

The guild master smiled triumphantly and his hands went behind his head as he leaned back in his chair, the front legs coming off the ground. "I'll take it." His light green eyes met hers, glittering playfully. "So, what else do you like about me?"

Faye hummed and tapped a finger against her chin as she pretended to think. "Hmm, I think that's about it."

Displaying faux astonishment, Brynjolf's mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land trying to breathe. "Really? There's nothing else you like about me? How about my voice, lass? Do you like the way I say your name?"

Faye gave a bashful grin and twirled her index finger in a lock of her golden hair as she tried not to remember the way his voice used to make her melt into a puddle just from the sound of it. Remembering her manners, Faye abruptly stood and collected the dishes. "You don't have to do that," Brynjolf said once he noticed what she was doing.

"You cooked. It's only fair that I clean," she answered sweetly as she moved to the sink and began washing the plates in her hands. "I'm still in shock. I never knew you could cook."

She had started on her first dish when she heard the chair scrape against the wooden floor as he stood. She listened to his muffled footsteps as he moved closer to her, stopping just behind her. "There's a lot you don't know, lass." His hot breath fanned her hair across her neck.

The Breton shifted her weight uncomfortably as she continued washing the dishes. Why did he have to stand so close to her? Why did he have to say things in that sultry voice of his? With guarded and distrustful eyes, Faye looked at the thief over her shoulder. He wanted something from her. She could see it in his eyes. Well, whatever it was, she was not going to give it to him. As she stared at Brynjolf over her shoulder, the plate in her hand slipped from her wet and soapy fingers and fell onto the edge of the sink with a loud crash, shattering it into pieces in the sink and on the floor. "Ysmir's beard!" Faye exclaimed as she jumped back from the shards of glass on the floor.

"It's okay, you don't have to be nervous," Brynjolf uttered in a low voice from behind her, clearly amused with the whole thing.

"I'm sorry," Faye muttered as she grabbed a towel and bent down to clean up the mess.

"While you're down there..." The Nord whispered suggestively under his breath with an impish grin.

Faye glared up at him from her crouched position. Brynjolf tilted his head to one side, twisting his mouth slightly, as if debating with himself whether or not to toy with her further. Realizing he was just playing with her, Faye let go of her anger and gathered all of the shards from the broken plate and threw them in the trashcan. She then proceeded to finish washing the dishes, turning her back on him, though he didn't move away from her.

Faye was running the dishrag over one of the drinking glasses, when her body tensed and her fingers slipped slightly on the glass when Brynjolf slowly reached around her and grabbed an apple lying on the counter beside her. She could feel the heat of his body, smell his scent, and her nerves frayed with the tension now building between them. Refusing to let him get under her skin, Faye drew a deep, shaky breath, her long blonde tendrils falling into her eyes. When he pulled his arm back, it brushed along her side causing her body to involuntarily shiver. She heard him laugh a low chuckle deep in his throat behind her before biting into his apple. "Are you always this tense, lass, or just with guys you're attracted to?"

_Damn him!_

Glaring down at the dishes, Faye quickly finished her task. "I'm tense because I feel like I can trust you... with nothing," she spat before spinning around to face him, a deep scowl on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the counter. "What are you up to?"

His pale green eyes glinted slyly as he took another bite of his apple. "I'm not up to anything, lass."

She eyed him somewhat suspiciously, before looking away. "You're always up to something."

Ignoring her skepticism, Brynjolf replied smoothly, "Most geniuses are."

She laughed, her gaze shifting back to him. "Are you calling yourself a genius? You're not helping your case in demonstrating that you're not an arrogant prick."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not saying I am a genius. Most other people do, though," he answered drolly. Faye snorted, and Brynjolf threw the apple core into the trash. "Come on, let me show you to your bathroom. I'm sure you're dying to take a bath."

Faye hesitantly followed after him with narrowed eyes, wondering what he was playing at. They moved up the stairs and turned left, coming to a stop at the last door at the end of the hall. Brynjolf opened the doors and led her into a large room that was opulently furnished. The walls were painted in a rich shade of green with matching rugs. Several crystal vases housed with freshly picked white lilies were dotted about the room. A crystal chandelier hung over the magnificent bed, its candles all lit.

Brynjolf moved across the room and opened another door that led to the bathroom and began filling the tub for her. "There are soaps and oils for your hair on the vanity, as well as fresh lavender and jasmine," Brynjolf called out over the sound of the water being poured into the tub. "Grab whatever you want."

Faye rolled her eyes. "I'm a plain girl, Brynjolf. I don't need anything fancy," she replied as she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Despite her words, she curiously walked over to the vanity where she found several pretty hair combs and ribbons resting along side a row of expensive perfumes, soaps, oils, and lotions. She let her fingers run lightly over a luxurious comb that was made of crystal and pearl.

"Find what you need."

Faye spun around to find Brynjolf leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom with the hint of a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. Faye looked down at the vanity and grabbed a bar of soap. "Yeah."

"I'm sure you're sick of wearing that armor," Brynjolf stated as he moved to the enormous wardrobe and flung open the doors. "Here, pick something out."

Faye slowly approached him and looked into the wardrobe. Her eyes widened as they came to rest on beautiful feminine dresses of every color imaginable made of the most luxurious materials. At the bottom of the wardrobe were shoes of every kind that surprisingly looked to be her size, which was strange since she had such small feet. There was also an extensive collection of expensive looking scarves, shawls, and hoods resting at the top of the wardrobe. As she looked at the pretty clothing, a tenseness settled in her chest. "I don't think Vex will like me wearing her clothes."

Brynjolf looked down at her, bemused. "What are you talking about, lass?"

Faye fidgeted with her hands. "Well, who else's clothes are these?"

"Yours," he claimed without the slightest hesitation, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

She blinked at him. "What?"

He looked around the room. "Everything. Everything in this room is yours."

Her mouth fell open slightly. The hair combs, ribbons, perfumes, soaps, oils, lotions, jewelry, shoes, clothing... he'd bought all of it for her. But why? Suspicion flared through her mind, wondering what he intended with such a gesture. "But… Vex…?"

The Nord exhaled heavily and shook his head as he took her chin between his forefinger and thumb and raised her confused eyes to meet his. "Vex is nothing to me," he said soothingly in that deep, rumbling brogue of his.

Faye looked him square in the eye for a long moment, unsure how to best respond. But then the events of eight months ago came rushing to the surface of her mind, reopening tender wounds.

_Don't fall for it!_ A small voice in her head warned.

Faye pulled away from his touch and folded her arms across her chest defensively, eyes narrowed incredulously on him. "She's always been what you've wanted. I saw you, remember. I saw the way you bolted from me the moment you heard her voice and went chasing after her like her lap dog. I saw it all. So don't tell me she's nothing to you. Don't you dare lie to me!" Faye shouted, trying to keep the hurt from her voice, but not quite succeeding.

Brynjolf cleared his throat and looked at her rather anxiously. "I'm not lying to you, lass," he answered sincerely, lightly touching her arm.

Faced with such earnest sincerity, she lost all her anger within the bat of an eyelash. She could do nothing but blink at him, her mind rattled. "When… when did things change?" She inquired with weary resignation.

His hand moved gently up her arm and he smiled warmly at her. "The moment I kissed you."

A lump rose in her throat and she went very quiet, very thoughtful. "But I thought… I thought you went back to her. Aren't you two still together?" Faye queried in a timorous voice with a straight face.

The Nord laughed darkly and pulled his hand from her. "Things ended between Vex and I permanently the moment I found her in bed with Delvin. She pulled me aside after our kiss in order to try and get back with me, but I refused her. You can rest assured that she will never touch me again."

"Oh…" Faye muttered as she absorbed his words, realizing she'd been mistaken about what'd happened between them for months. "But… when she asked you about me, you said I was nobody?"

Brynjolf sighed heavily, his expression remorseful. "I screwed up by saying that. I only said it to protect you. Vex can be very… cruel and vindictive. I didn't want her to come after you because of me. When I came back into the practice room, you were gone. I found your note and went chasing after you. That's what I was trying to explain to you when I came to Whiterun."

She scowled. "You got me in a lot of trouble that day."

He threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "What the hell was I supposed to do? You were getting your ass kicked by some drunk!"

She put her hands on her hips and stared angrily at him. "I was supposed to be roughing that guy up! It was a job for the Companions. Because of you, Vilkas thought I'd asked you to take care of the job for me. He wouldn't talk to me for days after that."

Brynjolf frowned as he immediately felt a wave of jealousy hit him. "Vilkas. Is that the guy?"

Faye's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What guy?"

The Nord's face was hard as stone as he clarified, "The guy you were supposed to marry."

Faye's face fell and something inside of her tugged sharply. "No… he's… no. He wasn't the one I was supposed to marry."

"Who, then?" Brynjolf demanded.

Anger unraveled in her at his prodding and she glared up at him. "We're not talking about _him_! We're talking about _you_!"

"There's nothing more to tell." His voice had changed. It was remarkably soft and tender. His hand lifted, reaching inside of her hood to cup the side of her neck, his thumb caressing her jaw. "Vex isn't the one I want, lass." Faye's heart skipped a beat at his words and her eyes widened when his other arm curled around her waist, palm pressed against the small of her back. He pulled her closer to him so that she was painfully aware of every breath he took. "I want a sweet little thing with large green eyes, golden hair, pouty lips, and a fiery spirit, who was born with the blood and soul of a dragon," Brynjolf confessed, gazing steadily into her eyes. He leaned into her, bringing his face mere inches from her own, and whispered, "Know anyone like that?"

Blushing hotly, she tore her eyes away and looked down at the floor, feeling his eyes sweeping over her like a silk caress. "I…" Faye's dry throat closed tight on her. "I... I need to change," she finished lamely as she swiftly stepped back and out of his grasp.

His lips pulled down slightly for a moment, disappointment clouding his face, but then his lips twisted into smirk as he winked. "You need some help?"

"Brynjolf!" Faye admonished, giving him a swift jab in the ribs. "You're such a scoundrel."

He leaned into her, his pale green eyes glimmering, taunting. "Yeah... but you like me because I'm a scoundrel."

Clearly flustered, she exclaimed, "I do not!"

He chuckled and stepped back. "Sure, lass. Whatever you say." He turned and headed for the door. "I'll be right outside. Call if you need anything. You know… a full body massage or a bath partner."

She let out one sharp laugh. "If I need my bow polished, Brynjolf, you'll be the first to know."

Brynjolf laughed as he opened the door, but paused and looked at her over his shoulder, his expression serious. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?" Faye asked.

"You said you were plain. The thing is, Faye... you're anything but. You're extraordinary. You're interesting. You're exquisite. And yes, sometimes you're unusual. But as long as I've known you, ever since we were kids, I've never found you plain. Not once. Not for one moment." And with that, he closed the door behind him.

A small smile graced Faye's lips as the hollow feeling in her heart mended slightly.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for your reviews. I really appreciate them. I have to give a little shout out to AcuteHedgehog, your reviews about Brynjolf make me laugh every time, especially the last one. My husband thought I was going crazy laughing to myself. Okay, enough about me, on with the story!

**Chapter 6**

"Watch the tail!" Vilkas barked the order at his fellow Companions as a massive, scaly, red and black-skinned tail came swooping down to throw them into Oblivion. They all ducked under the ancient dragon's colossal tail, except for Ria who wasn't fast enough. The Imperial woman was sent flying across the clearing into a tree, knocking her unconscious.

Vilkas growled in frustration at the woman's slow reflexes and plunged his sword deep into the exposed side of the dragon. He smirked as he felt the blade split through a lung and shatter a rib. The beast roared in pain and pulled its head back, standing on its hind legs.

"Get down!" Vilkas shouted as he dropped to the ground. The other Companions immediately fell on their stomachs as the dragon absorbed the air and exhaled a rush of scorching fire. The fire blazed above their heads. Vilkas was on his feet the moment the fire vanished and charged at the creature with his sword, a battle cry falling from his lips. His entire arm was soaked in his own blood from a deep gash he'd received from one of the other dragon's claws and his blood drenched fingers slipped slightly on his sword as he slashed relentlessly at the creature's red and black-scaled underbelly.

The dragon extended its massive black and red wings, casting the Companions in shadow, and snapped its massive teeth at Athis, who was facing the dragon head on. A piercing yell cut through the air and Vilkas turned sharply to find large snapping teeth rend the flesh of Athis' arm to shreds.

"By the Nine," Vilkas heard Torvar murmur beside him as he watched Athis stumble back, clutching his minced arm, blood flowing down his torso.

"Get up there and protect Athis!" Vilkas commanded without looking at the other Nord, stabbing the dragon's thick hide again.

Torvar's eyes widened with fright. "I… I don't…"

Vilkas scowled and spun around. The Harbinger grabbed Torvar by the collar of his armor and yanked him forward, his face hard and snarling, silver eyes narrowed and dangerous. "Glue your sack to your thigh and start bashing its fucking face in! That's an order!" Vilkas bellowed in the Nord's face before shoving him towards the dragon's head where an injured Athis was trying to scramble away from the roaring beast.

Vilkas turned and focused on chopping down the creature in front of him with his sword, but stopped when he saw the dragon raise its mighty arm up to the sky before swiping it down at Torvar. The blonde Nord fortunately fell back on the ground before the lethal claws could slash at him.

Vilkas cursed under his breath and rushed towards Torvar. The dragon moved in to slash at Torvar while he was down, but Vilkas swiped his sword at the beast's face causing it to pull its head back to avoid his blade. Vilkas' sharp silver eyes met the beast's feral black ones, and he smirked. With tremendous speed, Vilkas pulled the hidden dagger from his boot and threw it. With deadly accuracy, the blade embedded itself in the dragon's neck, hitting an artery, and causing black blood to spew in rivers down the creature's neck.

An ear-piercing roar rained down upon him, sending him tumbling backward. It was mad, beyond pissed at Vilkas' arrogance and audacity. Filled with rage, the dragon lunged at Vilkas with renewed vigor, like a bull seeing red. The dragon opened its mouth, ready to sink its sharp teeth into the young Harbinger. Before the jaws of death closed around him, Vilkas rolled to the side to evade the blow, just barely missing the snap of the beast's mighty jaws.

_Alright. That's it. No more fucking around_, Vilkas thought as he pushed himself up. He was on his feet in a flash and sprinting towards the dragon's tail where his brother was currently running his sword into the creature's hind leg.

"Farkas!" Vilkas shouted as he ran towards his brother, sheathing his sword on his back.

Farkas slashed at the dragon's tail before facing his brother. "Aye?"

A sly grin crept onto Vilkas' face, his steel colored eyes glinting diabolically. "I need a lift."

Farkas grinned back knowingly. "You got it."

Vilkas picked up speed, pushing his exhausted and bleeding body harder and faster. Farkas bent down, one hand on top of the other, hands held out slightly in front of his body. Vilkas leapt at his brother, placing his hands on Farkas' shoulders and his feet in his hands. Farkas dipped and tossed his brother into the air with all his strength. Vilkas turned in mid-air and landed gracefully on the dragon's back. Vilkas raced up the dragon's spine on the balls of his feet. When he got to the creature's neck, the dragon started thrashing, trying to throw him off. The sharp, jerky movements forced Vilkas off his feet. He fell forward and wrapped his arms around the dragon's neck in a death grip as he held on tight, his bloody fingers on his one hand slipping slightly on the rough scales.

The dragon abruptly stopped thrashing and roared in pain when Farkas sank his sword deep into the dragon's side, giving Vilkas a much-needed distraction. Vilkas was on his feet in no time and sprinting up the dragon's neck to the top of its massive head. He unsheathed his sword from his back and in one deft motion plunged it into the dragon's skull. The dragon roared, the blaring sound fading as the life left the creature. Its huge and lifeless body plummeted to the ground, colliding violently into the earth with a thunderous crash, causing a shockwave to ripple out from the impact.

Still perched on the head of the now dead dragon, Vilkas planted his food on top of the dragon's head, and pushed it off of his sword. The Harbinger jumped off the dragon's head and landed nimbly on his feet beside corpses of soldiers on the blood stained ground, black blood dripping off his sword. Vilkas shook the blood from his sword before sheathing his weapon. The Nord turned to see his twin and the other Companions panting as they tried to regain their breath.

Vilkas let out a sigh of relief. It was finally over.

His steel colored eyes fell on Athis who was groaning and squirming on the ground in pain while clutching his shredded arm. Torvar was at his side wrapping a tourniquet around his upper arm to stop the bleeding. "We need a healer over here," Vilkas commanded to the nearest Whiterun guard as he pointed to Athis.

"Yes, sir," the guard said before running off in search of Farengar, Whiterun's court wizard who'd been forced to accompany them by Jarl Balgruuf. The wizard appeared at Athis' side seconds later and immediately began healing the Dunmer's arm.

Vilkas coughed, his lungs burning from the smoke and ash he'd been forced to inhale during the lengthy fight. He cast his eyes around him and took in the aftermath of the battle. He stood in the middle of what could only be described as carnage. He saw fire burning the trees around him, filling the air with smoke and cinders. The once green and grassy clearing in the surrounding thick woods was now nothing but scorched earth and ash, with blood and gore littering the landscape. There was blood in the breeze along with the smell of burnt flesh from the corpses of soldiers who lay burned and bloody on the charred ground. But there were also three gigantic rotting carcasses of what were once dragons. So much wanton death, destruction, and bloodshed all because of three dragons.

Vilkas turned his head from the gruesome sight, his silver eyes landing on the sun that was just beginning to set, painting the sky in vibrant colors of orange and purple. Vilkas exhaled heavily as he stood on tired and numb legs, his breathing labored, his blood still pumping hard in his veins from the fight. The gentle breeze of the late-summer evening ruffled his sweaty ebony locks, a few strands brushing against his face that was caked with dirt and dust. His wolf armor was dented in certain places from the blows he'd received, pieces of it seared from the dragon's fiery breath. From head to toe he was covered in black dragon's blood - as well as his own crimson blood - some of it fresh and some of it dry. Warm red blood from the gash on his arm dripped from the ends of his fingers to soak into the ground at his feet. His eyes fell on the dragon carcass at his feet, and a smirk formed on his lips.

_Well, I think I've officially killed one of every living thing in Skyrim_, he thought.

Something inside of him tugged sharply, painfully, as he remembered that was one of the last things he said to Faye.

That was almost a week ago.

An air of melancholy suddenly surrounded him and his smirk slowly faded, pensive sadness and yearning crossing his features. Just thinking of her worked up that overwhelming _want_ that had been plaguing him for the past six days now.

It had taken the Companions a day to travel from Whiterun to Riverwood. They'd fought the three dragons when they got there, but the dragons and fled almost immediately upon their arrival. It took them another two days to track the dragons down the White River to a thick forest just outside of Falkreath. It was there that they'd vanquished all three dragons.

But now that the danger had passed, all Vilkas could think of was Faye. He knew it would take them at least three days to return to Whiterun, especially since a few of the Companions were injured. He could only pray that Faye had received his letter and that she was safe at home right now. Gods, what he would give to see her face the moment he walked through the doors of Jorrvaskr.

"Harbinger..."

Vilkas turned to find a young Nord with sandy blonde hair and amber eyes walk up to him wearing Imperial armor. "Aye. Who are you?"

The Nord stuck out his hand with a big grin on his face. "Hadvar, sir. It sure is an honor to meet you."

Vilkas remembered hearing that name and shook the man's outstretched hand. "So, you're the sole survivor from the dragon attack at Helgen."

The man's smile grew. "That's me. Though, I wasn't the only survivor. There were two more."

Vilkas crossed his arms over his chest, eyes flickering suspiciously to the two dozen Imperial soldiers that were standing in a tight cluster several feet away. "What are you Imperial soldiers doing here?"

The Nord tucked his thumbs in his belt. "We were traveling and made camp near Riverwood when the dragons attacked the town three days ago. We went to help, but many villagers had already perished by the time we got there. My uncle Alvor, he... he was killed during the attack."

Vilkas nodded his head sympathetically. "I'm sorry for your loss."

The man's amber eyes brightened. "Thanks. I appreciate that. We tried holding them off, but we were getting slaughtered. Thank the gods you guys arrived when you did or else we would've been killed too." Hadvar grinned boyishly at Vilkas with stars in his eyes. "It sure was something being able to watch the greatest warriors in all of Skyrim battle three dragons. And watching you, the Harbinger, make the killing blow to two of them... it was like watching something out of a children's story."

Vilkas chuckled under his breath at the man's obvious idolization, though he didn't feel he deserved such admiration. "Would you and your men like to accompany us back to the city?"

The other Nord shook his head. "I wish I could, I really do, but we're on a mission and must get back to it."

Vilkas' eyebrows hiked with interest. "Oh? What kind of mission?"

Hadvar looked cautiously over both shoulders before leaning into Vilkas and whispering, "I shouldn't be telling you this... but... one of the most wanted criminals in all of Tamriel was spotted in Skyrim several months back. The Emperor wants the criminal's head. Badly. So, General Tullius put together the best trackers he has to hunt the criminal down."

"_You're_ a tracker?" Vilkas asked incredulously.

Hadvar laughed. "Nah, I'm just here to identify her."

Vilkas couldn't help but wonder why that was. And then, for some reason even he couldn't fathom, a chill of foreboding crept over him. "What's the name of this criminal?"

The blonde Nord shook his head. "Sorry, Harbinger. I can't tell you that. It's top secret, and all."

Vilkas nodded his head in understanding, though to his great displeasure the foreboding chill remained. "Fair enough. Well, you're welcome to dine and drink at our mead hall whenever you finish your mission, Hadvar," Vilkas said courteously as he held out his hand.

Hadvar's eyes brightened as he shook Vilkas' hand enthusiastically. "Really? Wow. Thank you, Harbinger. What an honor. I will, you better believe it."

Hadvar said goodbye, promising to stop by Jorrvaskr when the criminal was apprehended, and Vilkas watched the blonde-haired Nord return to his fellow Imperials.

Seconds later, eyes of silver mist surrounded by black war paint slowly returned to the sunset, the warmth and golden glow it emitted reminding him of the honeyed tendrils that framed Faye's breathtaking face. Vilkas' eyes slid shut, his face twisting with torment as he saw her in his mind's eye. That porcelain skin, soft pink lips, blushing cheeks, and those mossy green eyes of hers that were so hauntingly beautiful that the mere memory of them gazing so deeply, so amorously into his own caused his soul to unknowingly call out for hers.

His chest suddenly felt heavy, and he raised a hand to rub his forehead. The memory of her was hitting the weakest part of him. His heart. He'd never felt so helpless and weak. He swore he was going mad with the want of her, with the yearning, the aching. It gave new depth to the meaning of longing. He missed her. He missed her so much it hurt. Did she miss him? He could only pray that she did. He could only beg the gods that she wanted the same things he did. Because what he wanted was her thoughts, her heart, her soul. He wanted her, all of her, so bad it was physically painful.

"Vilkas?" Farkas' voice called from behind him.

Vilkas' head turned slightly. "Aye."

"You ready to head home?"

Vilkas' eyes returned to the golden rays that reminded him so much of the woman who now plagued his mind every second of every day, who was slowly seeping into every fiber of his being. "More than you know."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Come on, lass. We're going to be late for the party. Hurry your sweet little ass up," Brynjolf called out from his spot on the brown couch, his feet resting on the coffee table and his fingers laced behind his head.

"I'm done when I'm done, you big oaf. Now shut up so I can finish getting ready," Faye yelled back from the room he'd made for her.

Brynjolf laughed. He loved her feisty attitude. He loved the way she dug in and didn't give up, the way her jade orbs flashed with fire when she fought with him. He also loved her softness – her sweet, loving character. It was a great combination.

Brynjolf loosened the collar around his neck. He wore a high-collared white shirt with a white kerchief, a black coat over a red waistcoat, and black breeches tucked into tall black boots. He was dressed up for the annual ball Maven Black-Briar threw for the thieves guild every year at her country house just outside of Riften. Well, it was more of a mansion than a house. She always went all out for the ball in order to impress the thieves and to remind them off her superiority over them. It was just a power play, but he didn't mind. He got free drinks and food out of it.

"So… is this okay? I don't really know what I'm supposed to wear to this thing. I never went before."

Brynjolf looked up to find Faye standing in the doorway to his living room. His eyes widened on her as he unlaced his hands from behind his head and stood slowly. She clasped her hands in front of her body and gazed shyly up at him from between her long black lashes.

Brynjolf's eyes swept over her small, svelte figure. The Breton wore a strapless, dark green, floor-length evening dress that was embroidered with a daisy pattern. A white silk headscarf covered her head and neck as well as a facial veil that left only her eyes and part of her forehead visible. Long flowing golden locks cascaded out the bottom of the headscarf in luscious waves down to her waist. Though he desperately wished to see her angelic face, he was relieved that it was covered. If it wasn't, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his hands off of her.

"You look ravishing, lass," Brynjolf said softly, green eyes peering up at her from behind stray locks of crimson hair.

Faye blushed at the compliment and ducked her head, a small smile on her face. "Thank you." Her leafy green eyes flickered back to him and roamed over him.

Brynjolf smirked at her travelling gaze. "You should talk to me if you're going to stare at me, lass."

Brynjolf watched, amused, as blood rushed to her face and she quickly lifted her eyes to his. "Sorry. I've just never seen you in anything other than armor. You look very nice."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. This is a great spot for me. I'm really well-lit."

"Arrogant prick," she mumbled under her breath with a small smile.

He winked at her. "I know."

"I do like your pants though."

An impish grin formed on his lips. "Thank you. But just because you like them doesn't mean they're coming off. Sorry to get your hopes up, lass."

She shook her head and grumbled, "You're terrible."

His grin grew. "If that were true you wouldn't love me."

The Breton rolled her eyes and brushed past him, heading for the door. Pale green eyes lingered keenly on the hypnotic sway of her hips and traveled appreciatively over the malachite silk that caressed her slight feminine curves.

"Stop trying to undress me with your eyes, guild master," Faye said without looked at him as she opened his front door.

"But how can I when I know what's underneath," he answered smoothly, remembering when he had to bath her in order to clean the gashes on her stomach back at the thieves guild headquarters.

"I hate you," Faye mumbled as she walked out into the night, the evening air seeping through her dress.

Brynjolf chuckled lightly as he languidly followed after her. "Oh, I see. You're playing hard to get. Well, don't get your hopes up, lass. I'm not easy."

"You're impossible, that's what you are!" Faye snapped at him as he walked up beside her.

The Nord looked sideways at her, smirking. "So I've been told. Many times. By you."

She tried to suppress her smile, but he saw it nonetheless. "Because it's true," she muttered. Her eyes met his for a second before looking forward again as she headed for the city gates. "So, are we walking there?"

The Nord shook his head. "No, it's too far. I have a carriage waiting for us by the stables."

She nodded. "Good call."

They walked side by side in silence as they made their way through the empty streets of Riften, drawing closer to the stables just outside the city gates. After a few moments, Faye's gaze shifted to Brynjolf, her viridian eyes highlighted by the full moon that was hanging low over their heads. "Brynjolf… I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me. I still can't believe I'm in Riften, staying at your house. Things seem to have… turned up side down on me in the last six days. I'm still trying to accept what has happened. I'm still trying to figure everything out. But to be honest, I've never felt so… lost…" Her voice was a shaky whisper of muffled sorrow, her face filled with barely concealed grief, and the typical warmth of her eyes absent.

Abhorring her bleak hopelessness and seemingly fathomless woe, Brynjolf reached out and placed a comforting hand on her delicate shoulder. Because her dress was strapless, his fingers touched her bare skin. Unable to stop himself, Brynjolf let his fingers lightly caress the smooth, ivory flesh beneath his fingertips. Her skin was so warm and unimaginably soft.

At his consoling touch, Faye shook her head as though clearing it and gave him a small appreciative smile – though it was barely discernible beneath the white facial veil she wore - before gently pulling away from his hand. Brynjolf's lips twitched down at the corners as he let his now tingling hand fall limply to his side, his fingers itching to touch that incredibly soft skin again. Faye ignored the sudden tension that filled the empty space between them as Brynjolf cleared his throat, "You will never be truly lost, lass. You will always have a place with your fellow thieves. With me. I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together these past few days. I've been afraid… ever since you left… that I'd never get to see you again. I am beyond grateful that is not the case."

The Breton's eyes fell to her feet as she thought on his words. "After what happened between us… for months I hated you, wanted nothing to do with you, and then one day I simply stopped thinking of you. Truthfully, I never thought I'd ever see you again." Brynjolf tensed beside her at her words, a prominent frown marring his features. "But now I know I've been mistaken, that I've been wrong about you. And… I don't know what to think about that." She shook her head, the white silk draped across her face ruffling slightly from the movement. "How did everything get so complicated?"

Her words cut him, and Brynjolf internally fought against the bitterness that wished to afflict his mind, and his tongue. "Life is only as complicated as you make it, lass."

She sighed. "I guess you're right. Staying with you these past few days… I feel like we're… becoming friends. And for that, I am eternally grateful that fate brought us back together and allowed us to clear up the past. I don't have many friends, and have always wished for us to be so."

The Nord's expression became grave and his chin slowly turned towards her, crimson strands falling in his green eyes as his gaze met hers. "You don't like me, lass... as a friend."

Her mouth tightened and something inscrutable passed in her eyes before she turned away from him, jerking her head forward. Brynjolf's gaze lingered on her side profile as they approached the stables where the carriage was waiting for them.

After three days with Faye living with him at his home, Brynjolf could swear he was having an effect on her. He couldn't wait until she finally let her walls crumble. Even though this whole dance they were doing was amusing and all, he was starting to loose his patience. He was a man after all. He could only take so much of being near her without touching her. He was reaching his limit. And his time was running out. This would be her last night with him before she returned to Whiterun to confront the Companions, and hopefully resign.

Tonight would be the night he made his move.

Tonight would be the night she became his.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 7**

Faye stood at the back of the grand ballroom at Maven Black-Briar's mansion with an empty champagne glass in her hand and a far off look on her face.

The ballroom was a beaux art treasure of opulence. There were marble floors and pillars, dramatic mirrors on the walls, floor length windows covered with sumptuous golden curtains. A magnificent stained-glass ceiling was overhead along with several tear-drop crystal chandeliers, and the room was filled with candles that gave off a warm and intimate glow. There was a large dance floor with several bards setup in front with lutes, flutes, and drums. The ballroom was filled with hundreds of people, consisting of thieves and the most notable people in all of Skyrim. The men wore posh breeches, vests, and coats; while the women wore lavish ball gowns of the highest fashion. Everyone was laughing, dancing, eating, and drinking around her. They were enjoying themselves and mingling with one another, while the Dragonborn remained at the back of the room, alone. She didn't want to attend the party in the first place, but Brynjolf had convinced her. Now she was regretting her decision. Immensely. She didn't feel right here. She didn't feel apart of this group. In fact, she felt like she was swimming with sharks in deep water with a bleeding wound. She felt like an outsider. She didn't belong in this world. She didn't belong here.

She wanted to go home.

She wanted to return to Whiterun. So much so that she wanted to leave right then and there. The gashes on her stomach were officially healed. There was no reason for her to stay in Riften any longer. She didn't _want_ to stay any longer. She wanted to see her Companion family. She wanted to apologize to them all, especially Farkas. But most of all, almost desperately and with a fierce desire, she wanted to see Vilkas. His intense, silver mist eyes surrounded by obsidian war paint haunted her dreams as well as her every waking moment. She found herself unable to think of anything else and the need to be near him was overwhelming, almost painfully so. She'd been told once that absence made the heart grow fonder, but right now her heart didn't feel fond. It felt small and twisted and withered.

The music suddenly died and the sound of a fork tapping against a wineglass was heard over all the mindless chatter in the room. "May I have your attention, please," Maven Black-Briar yelled as she stood on a small, elevated stage at the front of the room. All conversation faded and everyone turned to face the hostess wearing the extravagant, black ball gown. "Thank you. I wanted to say a few words before we hear from the guild master himself. We are all here to…"

Faye leaned back against the wall, her head connecting with a soft thud. Her head swam from the alcohol she'd ingested and she licked her dry lips. The Breton's mossy green eyes lifted to the stained-glass ceiling and she stopped listening to the woman on the stage as she fed the crowd lies and made herself sound like a god. Unable to stand the deceit and the wickedness around her, Faye closed her eyes and let herself fall into her most cherished memory, something she'd been doing a lot lately.

_"Please… don't stop…" she begged pitifully, afraid that if he did she'd die. "…don't ever stop…" She wrapped her arms around his neck and crossed her ankles at the small of his back in order to bring him closer to her, needing to feel every inch of his skin against hers._

_His fingers wound in her hair, jerking her head down to meet his scorching gaze. "Never," Vilkas rumbled in a deep throaty voice, his silver eyes severe and piercing. "I want to live inside of you now."_

As her mind flooded with the treasured memories, her body began to tremble, her skin so hot she felt feverish. She kept her eyes tightly shut, refusing to see anything other than the images playing across the backs of her eyelids. Her hand unintentionally lifted to her heart, fingers digging into her dress, her breathing hard as if she were drowning.

Faye's eyes flew open when everyone in the room started clapping, pulling her from her memories. She lowered her gaze to the stage and saw Brynjolf walking onto it. The Dragonborn lifted her hand to rub her heated forehead. Her mind was whirling with the lingering images that made her feel faint and weak at the knees.

_As soon as the party is over I'm going to pack and leave for Whiterun_, Faye thought resolutely to herself. She closed her eyes again and pushed the memories to the back of her mind. She couldn't dwell on them now. They would only make the ache for Vilkas unbearable.

Exhaling heavily, the Breton slowly opened her eyes to the redhead on the stage. From the back of the room, Faye watched Brynjolf address the group with a natural charm and confidence that she could never hope to possess. He was so suave and charismatic, able to use words to manipulate others around him, bend them to his will, to get what he wanted. And he always got what he wanted.

Faye frowned slightly. She was more than grateful to Brynjolf for saving her life, and then for taking care of her until her wounds were fully healed. But she couldn't ignore the fact that he'd been acting very odd towards her in the last three days. The subtle caresses he gave her were becoming more and more evident. The way his fingers would linger on hers whenever he handed her something, how he would tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, or how his hand would stroke the small of her back as he led her into a room. It was just casual contact, she told herself. They had, after all, grown closer over the last three days while she stayed with him at his home. It seemed to her they were simply sharing a comfortable and friendly relationship, nothing more. She could only hope that he felt the same way.

"Well, well, well…" came a low, throaty, feminine voice. Faye turned her head to find Vex leaning her back against the wall beside her. The Nord woman wore a skintight evening dress that was the color of blood, and her dress dipped so low in the front that it barely covered her considerable assets. Her white-blonde hair was done up in an elegant chignon, and expensive diamonds dangled from her ears and hung around her neck. Vex's head turned and her eyes met Faye's. Those ice blue eyes… they held nothing but hatred and contempt for her. "…look at what the cat dragged in," Vex finished with a sharp edge to her discourteous words.

Faye's fingers tightened around her empty champagne glass. "Vex."

Vex's red painted lips curled into a nasty glare. "I'm surprised to see you here, street rat. I thought we'd already rid ourselves of you months ago."

Faye's other hand curled into a tight, tremulous fist. "You have. I'm leaving tonight," Faye gritted out through clenched teeth, fighting to keep her temper in check.

Vex brought her glass to her lips and took a sip of her red wine. "Good. I was afraid we'd have to fumigate. That is the proper way to eliminate vermin, such as yourself."

Faye snapped, "What's your problem, Vex?"

Vex's smile was like a knife. "My problem? My problem is you. _I'm_ going to be the third Nightingale along with Brynjolf and Karliah. Not you. So whatever it is you're planning, you can forget it."

Faye rolled her eyes. "I don't want to be a Nightingale. I'm not trying to take your place, Vex."

The other woman's cerulean eyes bore into hers with pure, unadulterated malice. "Like I'd believe a word that came out of your whore mouth."

Faye's emerald eyes flashed with ire. "Excuse me?"

Vex's voice thickened with anger and distaste. "You heard me. I know about you. I know why you didn't get married six days ago. You think you're so much better than me, but you're so much worse," the Nord woman spat, venom coating her odious words.

"Do you really think that _you_, of all people, are fit to judge me?" Faye asked incredulously, her nerves taut as the strings of a bow.

Vex ignored her comment and smiled sadistically at her while she traced a finger along the rim of her wineglass. "I wonder what Brynjolf will think when he hears his precious little Faye is the biggest whore in all of Riften," Vex uttered spitefully, her eyes watching the much smaller woman closely, as if eager to see her bleed.

Faye bristled at the sound of the other woman's voice, the hostility and acidity of her tone, the cruelty of her words. "I believe you hold that title, Vex." The Nord woman's face turned pale and carved with lines of resentment and bitterness. "Besides, I think I'd have to sleep with more than one man to get branded with such a name."

Vex got right in Faye's face, her blue eyes as cold and hard as ice, her face pallid with fury, an ugly curl to her mouth. "You bitch!"

"It takes one to know one," Faye hissed, and gave Vex a level stare, her chin belligerent. "Now, if you'll excuse me." Faye moved past her, intentionally bumping into her shoulder as she walked past, and headed straight for the bar, ignoring the curses that were being spat at her back.

As Faye wove through the crowd of people, her small hands clenched and unclenched as she seethed with rage. She forced herself to take in long and deep breaths in an attempt to force down her boiling anger. She wouldn't let that bitter and resentful woman get to her. Vex wanted to get under her skin, but Faye wouldn't let her. She was better than that.

Finally reaching the bar, Faye placed her elbows on the mahogany bar-top and leaned forward. "Champagne, please," Faye said politely to the bartender, having to almost shout over the music and the buzz of insipid conversation around her.

"Aren't you a little young to be drinking?" The older Nord asked while eying the petite, youthful Breton suspiciously.

"I'm eighteen. I'm old enough. And I'm the Dragonborn. I may be dead in a few days after having met my fiery doom. Why don't you help a girl out?" The comely young woman asked with a winsome smile and dazzling beryl orbs.

The bartender burst with boisterous laughter. "Fair enough, little thing."

"Thanks," Faye smiled as she handed him her empty glass.

Faye adjusted her white headscarf and facial veil, then smoothed out the creases in her strapless evening dress. She let her fingers drag up the malachite silk on her thigh, admiring the smooth feel of it, before turning around. She leaned back against the bar and let her elbows rest on the wooden bar-top. Her jade eyes wandered while she waited for her drink, absentmindedly scanning the faces around her. They stopped when they landed on a familiar shade of crimson.

Faye focused her attention on Brynjolf, who was staring at her from across the room, watching her in quiet contemplation. He was leaning on his shoulder against the wall across the room from her, strong arms crossed over his chest. Faye waited for him to look away, and became slightly frazzled when his gaze refused to waver. Brynjolf abruptly pushed himself off the wall and walked towards her. He moved fluidly through the crowd, his sea green eyes never leaving hers. Faye noticed the lustful eyes of both men and women that trailed behind him in his wake.

Throughout the night, Faye had observed several women making deliberate eye contact with the guild master, and smiling suggestively at him. One even slipped him a piece of paper at one point, probably with her address written on it. Brynjolf had smiled at the bold woman, flashing her that dashing smile of his, before handing the paper back to her with a shake of his head. His responses surprised her. She'd thought the charming Nord would have picked up a woman by now, but he didn't seem interested in any of them.

Faye was pulled from her musings when said Nord stopped directly in front of her. She noticed he'd removed the white kerchief he'd arrived in, and had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his high-collared white shirt. He'd also removed his black coat and was now clad only in his red waistcoat, black breeches, and tall black boots.

"You want a drink?" asked Faye with a nod of her head towards the bar she was currently leaning against.

The guild master shook his head. "No thanks."

She tilted her head to the side. "You're not drinking anything tonight?"

He smirked at her. "No, girls take advantage of me when I drink."

Faye rolled her eyes, her lips quirking up at the corners with amusement.

Brynjolf dropped his smug smirk, and severe concern and apprehension surfaced from his formerly confident features. "What did she say to you?"

"Who?" asked Faye, feigning innocence.

He gave her a pointed look. "You know who."

"Nothing," Faye murmured. "She said nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing," he replied, unconvinced.

"Well, it was nothing you need to concern yourself with," Faye assured him.

Brynjolf opened his mouth to respond when the bartender cut in, "Your champagne, little thing."

Faye turned around and smiled sweetly at the man, grateful for his interruption, completely missing the way Brynjolf's eyes narrowed on the older Nord. "Thank you," Faye said graciously, taking the offered glass of champagne from his outstretched hand. She lifted her facial veil up and brought the glass to her lips. She took a large gulp, nearly finishing the glass off in one swallow. She put her glass down on the bar-top and adjusted her facial veil before turning around to face Brynjolf again.

The Nord studied her for a moment before his lips curled into an affectionate smile. He slowly stretched a hand out toward her, his eyes shining with mischief. "Let's dance, lass."

Faye's mouth fell open slightly in surprise. She wasn't sure what to say. First of all, she didn't know how to dance. She'd never been asked before. Secondly, she didn't want her first try at it to take place in a room full of people. But he was looking at her with those bright eyes and that warm smile that seemed to silently promise that he would take care of her, that he would not let her make a fool of herself, and that she would enjoy it. Nervously, Faye placed her hand in his much larger one, and he gently pulled her after him to the dance floor.

After weaving through the mass of dancing couples, the guild master turned to face the Breton and placed one hand on her lower back and took hold of her hand, holding it up. Faye's free hand went to his shoulder as he began sweeping her across the dance floor with the grace, skill, and confidence of an expert. The other dancers on the dance floor stopped to watch them, moving off the dance floor to give the couple more room. When Brynjolf's hands went to her tiny waist and lifted her effortlessly into the air, her hands clutching his broad shoulders, every eye in the room shifted to them. All conversation in the room died out in favor of watching the guild master spin and twirl the Dragonborn around the dance floor like they'd been dancing together for years.

Noticing the attention they'd inadvertently drawn, Brynjolf smirked down at her and brought his lips to her ear. "It seems we've gathered a bit of an audience, lass."

Faye looked nervously around at the gawking onlookers that surrounded her. "Wonderful. More people to watch me make a fool of myself," Faye deadpanned.

His lips brushed her ear, hot breath fanning against her skin. "Let's give them a show."

Faye pulled back to look up at him warily. With a roguish grin, Brynjolf pulled Faye to him and then dipped her down low. Instinctively, her knee bent and lifted to hug his hip, her hands clutching his upper arms, afraid she was going to fall on her back. The room erupted in cheers and whistles around them at the risqué move. Faye let out a bell-like laugh as red suffused her cheeks in a very becoming manner. Brynjolf gazed down at her with an impish grin, his pale green eyes glittering with unconcealed mirth behind stray locks of auburn hair. He carefully returned her to her feet, but his hands remained on her lower back while Faye's hands remained on his upper arms.

As they began to sway again to the music, his arms encircled her waist to hold her close. Faye pressed her cheek against his strong chest and let her eyes slide closed. Brynjolf rested his chin lightly on the top of her head, breathing in her scent of fresh wildflowers, thinking there was no place in the world he'd rather be than right here with Faye in his arms.

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In front of Maven Black-Briar's mansion, in a large oak tree, a female Dunmer sat alone on a tree branch with her back against the bark staring up at the moon. The Dunmer woman wore black leather armor bearing an insignia that resembled a nightbird cradling the moon in its wings. Her lavender eyes gazed up at the clouds that drifted in front of the moon as she idly twirled a dagger in her hand, one foot dangling off the branch, swaying lightly with the evening breeze.

Karliah could barely make out the music playing inside the mansion as well as smell the delicious aromas coming off the delicious foods available to the guests inside. She'd seen Brynjolf and Faye enter the mansion earlier, dressed for the occasion. The Nightingale had been surprised to see Faye's face covered with white silk. The Dunmer couldn't help but wonder why that was. Why was she always hiding her face? What did the Dragonborn have to hide? Karliah didn't know, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

Karliah sighed and pocketed her dagger. She wasn't attending the ball, but rather keeping an eye out for trouble. It wouldn't surprise her if Mercer showed up tonight to attempt to kill one or all three of them. They were his greatest threat after all, and the ball provided him a great opportunity to catch them off guard.

Besides, Karliah couldn't bring herself to ever walk through those doors ever again. She had too many bittersweet memories in that house from previous balls, years ago. Memories of Gallus twirling her on the dance floor, of him kissing her hand outside in the gardens, of him dragging her off to a dark hallway in a secluded part of the house to make love to her. Precious memories she kept close and dear to her heart, and would never let fade away.

Out of the corner of her eye, the Dunmer saw a flash of yellow. Karliah turned her head and her keen violet eyes spotted a blonde Nord boy, no older than twelve, running up the dirt road towards the house. He wore commoner clothing and a messenger bag.

Silently, the Nightingale stood and did a back flip off the branch, landing without a sound on the grass below. Keeping to the shadows the numerous oak trees in the front yard provided, Karliah moved swiftly towards the approaching boy. Moments later, she manifested out of the shadows behind the boy and placed her hand on his shoulder. The boy screamed with fright and spun around, brown eyes wide with fear as he looked at the dark and threatening figure in front of him. "P-P-Please, d-don't kill m-m-me!"

"I won't if you answer my questions," Karliah responded quietly, but with a hard edge to her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I'm supposed to d-d-deliver a l-letter to o-one of the guests-s here," the boy stammered as he stared up at the Nightingale with terrified eyes.

Karliah folded her arms. "Which guest?"

"The Dragonborn," the boy answered without stuttering, his body relaxing a bit as he realized she wasn't going to attack him. "I've been searching for the Dragonborn for days. I heard the Dragonborn would be attending the ball tonight, so I came right away."

Karliah tensed. "Who gave you the letter?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't remember his name. But he had a big sword."

_Mercer_... Karliah thought, her jaw clenching. She knew he would attack tonight, she just knew it. The letter was probably poisoned.

"Give me the letter," Karliah demanded.

The boy's brown eyes narrowed with distrust. "No way. The man paid me a lot of coin to make sure it got to the Dragonborn, and only the Dragonborn."

Becoming irritated, Karliah replied, "I'm a friend of hers. I'll pass it along."

"Nuh-uh. No deal. Besides, you're lying. Everyone knows the Dragonborn is a man, the greatest Nord warrior that ever lived."

Karliah rolled her eyes. Why was it so hard to believe that a woman could be the Dragonborn? Or a non-Nord for that matter?

"Will 200 septims change your mind?" Karliah asked holding out a large coin purse.

The boy looked contemplatively at the coin purse. The man who gave him the letter made him swear on his honor to give it to the Dragonborn. But his mother was sick and his father was off fighting with the Stormcloaks. He had five younger sisters to take care of, and that much coin could feed them for weeks. He hated to let the man down, to go back on his word, but he needed the money. "Alright. I'll give you the letter. But give me the coin first."

Karliah dropped the coin purse in the boy's hand. He rummaged through his messenger bag before pulling out a white envelope and handing it to her. "Thanks, kid. If you need more coin, the thieves guild is always looking for new recruits. Just ask for Sapphire at the Bee and Barb."

His eyes brightened. "Really? Thanks. I'll go right now!"

As the boy ran down the dirt path, Karliah turned and moved swiftly back to her tree. Once she was seated on the same branch again, the Dunmer lifted the white envelope to her nose and sniffed, but didn't detect any poison. Using her dagger, she gently cut the seal on the envelope and cautiously lifted the paper out from within with her gloved hand. She expected poison to be soaked into the paper, but surprisingly found none. Curious, Karliah opened the letter to find impeccable handwriting on the page.

**_My Dearest Faye,_**

**_I hope this letter reaches you in good health. I have worried about you, as you cannot imagine. Believe me, I'd be there with you if I could. I couldn't get to you. I tried, know that I did, because not hearing your voice is unbearable, not seeing you is torture, not touching you is agony. _**

**_My only happiness is to be near you. _**

**_Incessantly, I live every memory of you. I think of nothing but the green of your eyes, the cream of your skin, the pink of your lips, the rose of your cheeks. _**

**_When you were in my arms, there was so much I wanted to say to you. But I never got the chance. Fate seems to be against us, you and I, but I've gone up against the odds before, and I'll do it again for you. Anything for you. __We are meant to be together, and because of that, we will always find our way back to where we belong._**

**_In the past I've been judgmental, cruel, and blind to you and so very, very wrong. I hope you can forgive my mistakes and the many pains I have caused you. _**

**_I know what happened between us was sudden and unexpected, but know that I do not regret a single moment spent with you. Know that I want nothing but to be with you. Know that I'll be yours, if you want me too. _**

**_I'll be waiting for you at Jorrvaskr, a place that can only be called home with you in it. Please be swift. I don't see how I can wait for you another second._**

**_Ever yours._**

**_Vilkas_**

Karliah lifted a hand to wipe away the tear that had escaped her eye. Those words… they reminded her so much of Gallus. When he died, her heart had died too. She never thought she'd ever feel anything ever again, but right now… she could feel something. And it was devastating and heartrending. It was as if those words had awakened something within her, something that had stopped working a long time ago.

Karliah stared down at the letter clutched in her gloved hand.

She felt torn. A part of her wanted to destroy the letter because it would interfere with her revenge. But another part of her wanted to give the letter to Faye. Such words deserved to be read by the one they were intended for. But she couldn't give the letter to the Breton. Karliah _needed_ Faye to become a Nightingale. Only the three of them could take down Mercer. And Mercer's death was no longer a necessity for Karliah.

It was an obsession.

That vile man had killed her only love. He had exiled her from the guild. He had framed her for her love's murder. He had sent assassins after her. Mercer had to die. There was no question and no alternative. She'd done nothing but eat, sleep, breathe revenge for the past twenty-five years. She was so close now. So damn close to her goal. So close to the vengeance she deserved she could practically feel it on her tongue. And this letter… this letter that made even her cold, lifeless heart beat once again - even if only for a moment - would ruin everything. It would send Faye running into the arms of the man who wrote it, and Karliah couldn't afford to let that happen. She needed the Dragonborn on her side when she met Mercer again for the last time.

The Dunmer's lilac eyes flickered to the window where she could see Faye dancing with Brynjolf inside. The guild master loved her. Karliah could see that. Maybe Brynjolf deserved a chance with the girl. She'd loved him once. Maybe she could love him again. And together, the three of them would be the most infamous thieves since the Gray Fox. They would restore the Thieves Guild to its former glory, and everything would return to the way it was when Gallus was alive.

Karliah looked back down at the letter in her hand. She knew she should burn it, but she didn't have it in her heart to let fire consume the loving words written so eloquently on the page. Decision made, Karliah slowly folded the letter in her hands and gently tucked it into her pocket.

There, in the Dunmer's pocket, rested Vilkas' letter against a worn sketch of Gallus and Karliah the day he asked her to marry him - the same day Mercer's sword was run through his chest.

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The song ended and Faye glanced up at her dance partner, whose light green eyes seemed to have darkened over the span of a few seconds. She sucked in a sharp breath when his hand lifted to her face, his fingertips grazing her exposed eyebrow. Faye froze, holding her breath as she watched his face. She'd seen that look before, eight months ago.

"Brynjolf…" Faye started to protest, fearing the consequences that would follow if he kissed her now, even if his lips would only meet the veil that covered her own.

Hearing the fright and apprehension in her voice, Brynjolf's fingers left her brow. His hand wrapped around hers, and he pressed a kiss to her palm while holding her gaze. "Thank you, lass. For the dance."

"T-Thank you. I'm… I'll just… I need a drink…" The Dragonborn mumbled before turning on her heel and practically fleeing from the guild master, leaving him alone on the dance floor as she rushed to the bar in need of something stronger than champagne.

"Whiskey on the rocks," Faye muttered to the bartender, her fingers drumming impatiently on the wooden bar-top as she waited. She refused to let her mind think on what had just happened, or what almost happened, on the dance floor with Brynjolf. Her life was already complicated and confusing enough as it was without adding _that_ to the mix.

"Well now, aren't you a pretty, little thing," a masculine voice sounded beside her. Faye turned her head to find Delvin walking up to the bar beside her. The thief whistled low and smiled appreciatively at her as he came uncomfortably close, entering her personal space. "Who knew curves like that were hidden beneath that armor you wear religiously."

Faye stiffened when she felt a hand, low on her back. Delvin opened his mouth to say something else, but never got the chance. Brynjolf grabbed Delvin by the wrist and twisted his arm behind him. Delvin cried out in pain as Brynjolf rammed his elbow into the back of Delvin's neck, slamming his face into the wooden bar-top.

"You touch her again and I'll break your fingers," Brynjolf hissed in his ear, disgust marring his features, and then he wrenched the fingers of the offending hand. Delvin howled in pain, struggling against the guild master. Brynjolf let up and Delvin skulked away, cradling his injured hand, biting his tongue against the curses he wished to spit at the guild master.

Slowly, Brynjolf's head turned to face her. Faye felt her stomach drop to her feet. The look on his face was one she'd never seen before on him. Seemingly of its own volition, her hand lifted to cover her gaping mouth. His handsome face was twisted with deadly rage, his lips were snarled with an ugly slant, his eyes were so cold with the icy fury swirling in them, and his face was so red that it almost matched his hair. Rendered speechless, Faye could only stare at Brynjolf with wide, fearful eyes. She'd never seen him so angry before. It scared her.

Seeing the evident fear in her eyes, Brynjolf took one cautious step towards Faye. Her body visibly tensed, like a coiled spring. Hesitantly, he took another step and she turned and bolted for the front door. The guild master stood motionless as he watched the Breton run away from him. She was afraid of him.

Vex walked up beside Brynjolf, scowling. "What are you doing with that girl?"

The Nord's eyes remained on Faye's hastily retreating figure. "Why do you care?"

The blonde looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Because I'm-"

"You're what?" He snapped harshly, still not looking at her.

Her scowl twisted into something dark and sour. "You're just trying to make me jealous."

"Stop being a selfish bitch," Brynjolf spat venomously. Vex's mouth fell open in astonishment at the insult and the tone that went with it. Brynjolf had never spoken to her like that before. "I don't give a damn about you anymore, Vex," he muttered, his voice ominously low, before following after Faye.

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Brynjolf found her on the roof, her slender arms wrapped around her knees, eyes on the stars, her face crumbled in thought. She'd removed her headscarf and facial veil, both were resting on the roof beside her. Long flowing waves of blonde silk fell over her delicate shoulders like a golden waterfall, cascading in ripples to her waist.

"Escaping already?" Brynjolf asked carefully as he cautiously approached her.

Faye looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes cagey. "No. Not yet. I just wanted to look at the stars."

"And get away from me," he supplied miserably.

She gave him a sad, barely there smile. "Well, that too."

His shoulders slumped with remorse. "I'm sorry about that. I… I don't know what came over me."

She nodded slightly, her expression thoughtful, before she turned her gaze back to the stars. "It's alright, Brynjolf. Lets just forget about it."

Sighing with relief, Brynjolf slowly made his way across the roof toward her, sitting down beside her. The side of his body pressed against hers, and he couldn't help but enjoy the closeness of her body against his. It was quiet up on the roof of Maven's mansion, peaceful even. The music from the ballroom was greatly muffled leaving only the softly filtered sounds of nature to be heard amidst the sounds of trickling fountain water from the garden below.

Her viridian eyes abruptly shifted to him. "I have a question-"

"Yes," he said interrupting, a mischievous grin gracing his countenance. "It really is that big."

"Arrogant prick," she muttered, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement.

He laughed sonorously. "I know. I have a problem. It's been addressed." She smiled beguilingly up at him. "What's your question, lass?" The Nord asked, his fingers itching to splay over her silk covered thigh.

The petite woman studied his face for a moment before asking, "Why do you want me to be a Nightingale instead of Vex? She's a much better fighter than I am, and a current member of the Guild. Why me?"

The redhead scrunched up his face, deep in thought. "Because of your spirit, lass. You may not be the greatest fighter, but you have a fire within you. You have such determination and fierceness, despite the odds being against you."

"Oh," she said softly before returning her gaze to the sky.

Brynjolf's eyes lingered on her face. A light wind blew, and delicate wisps of honeyed hair dragged along her soft cheeks with the wind's current. She was so beautiful, the very embodiment of beauty, possessing an essence of sheer femininity that almost inspired reverence. His eyes traveled slowly down to her pretty mouth, then along the curve of her slender neck. He licked his suddenly dry lips and suppressed the urge to lower them and brush them along the smooth column of her neck, tasting her skin.

"I'm leaving," Faye whispered suddenly without looking at him. "Tonight."

Brynjolf screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, then opened them. "I know," he replied, his voice ragged.

Faye stole a quick glance at him. Brynjolf was staring pensively at the night sky, his russet hair hiding his face. She could practically feel the tension rolling off of him. "Stay," he whispered, an uncharacteristic roughness in his voice, eyes remaining on the heavens above.

Her heart lurched at his words. "I can't." She gazed at the stars that blanketed the velvety sky, missing the hurt that crossed his features. "I don't think I'll be coming back."

An owl hooted high above their heads as it took off from the branch it was perched on, the rustling of leaves echoing through the silence. They sat there in the moonlight, silent as the grave, for what seemed like an eternity. The air around them was thick, the tension between them almost tangible.

"Do you love the guy?" Brynjolf's voice was clipped and as hard as stone.

Faye looked at him. "Who?"

Brynjolf's eyes flickered to her, scarlet locks hanging in his hardened eyes. "The guy you were supposed to marry."

Faye's eyes met and held his in the moonlight. "Yes."

"More than me?" His voice was low, apprehensive.

The Breton averted her gaze and looked down at the garden below as she thought on his question. She thought about Farkas, her dearest friend, and about Brynjolf, her first love.

Several moments later, the leaves on the willows shook and rustled with the breeze, and Faye parted her lips and answered honestly, "No." Her voice was as soft and as gentle as the light summer breeze that blew around them. Faye turned her head to find his eyes still on her, but no longer filled with the hurt and jealousy she'd witnessed a moment ago. There was a hunger in them, ravenous for something only she could give him.

"Good." His voice was suddenly a full register deeper, and his eyes a shade darker. There was a defiance in his face as he leaned in towards her until only a few breaths separated them, her instincts prickling. "Because you loved me first, lass. You belonged to me long before that guy ever saw you. He can't have you. No one can have you but me."

Faye opened her mouth to argue when his hand came up, seizing her by the back of her head and dragging her mouth up to his, smothering her words with the hot press of his mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 8**

Vilkas laid on his back on the soft summer grass, hands behind his head, staring up at the endless expanse of stars that dotted the night sky. His raven-black locks were wet after having just bathed in the river that was nearby. He wore a fresh black tunic and loose black pants along with his boots. His armor was drying on a boulder a few feet away after having been cleaned.

Vilkas was off by himself, a few yards away from the other Companions. The others had set up camp and were sitting around a fire enjoying the soup Ria had made for them. They were laughing and talking animatedly about the fight they'd had with the dragons the day before. They'd been traveling for a whole day, yet they didn't get very far. Not as far as Vilkas had hoped they'd get by now. He'd hoped to return to Whiterun in three days, but it looked like it would be four at the earliest. The slow pace grated on him, but it couldn't be helped. Ria and Athis were still recovering from the injuries they'd received, and Vilkas couldn't push them too hard just because he was restless to return home. To return to her.

_Faye_.

The sound of her name echoing in his mind made his chest grow heavy while his eyes clenched tightly shut. He suddenly felt cold, alone, and excruciatingly empty.

A week.

An entire week.

A whole, agonizing week had gone by since Vilkas last saw the Dragonborn and he couldn't take it anymore. The longing… it was like a festering wound, a terrible ache that worsened every second of every day. It was slowly driving him insane. Each night the restlessness and yearning grew within him, threatening to claw its way out of his chest, and, damn it, it was becoming unbearable to breathe. He couldn't help but think that maybe this was the hell he had to crawl through to get to heaven.

But in the darkest part of his mind, he couldn't help but fear that perhaps Faye didn't want to see him. She'd told him in the bridal suite that it would only happen once. Did she mean that? Did she still love his brother? She did run after Farkas out of the bridal suite, leaving him behind. Did that mean she still wanted to spend the rest of her life with Farkas? Gods, he wouldn't blame her for wanting his brother instead of him. He'd been so terrible to her. Talos, he'd messed up so badly. Maybe this forced separation was his punishment for being so wrong about her, for not ever seeing her until now, for being such a colossal prick to her. He didn't deserve her, he knew that, especially not after the way he'd treated her in the past.

But that didn't erase the fact that he still wanted her, still wanted her to be his. What happened in the past didn't erase the fact that he was the first to have her, something she'd wanted with fervor. She'd wanted him to touch her, to take her, to be her first. That meant something. It had too. There was something between them, something so much more than themselves, he knew it. He'd felt it, and he was sure she'd felt it too.

With a jolt of determination, Vilkas nodded firmly to himself. He would fight for her, until his last breath, because a life without her... it was a fate to cruel to comprehend.

Suddenly feeling tired from his heavy thoughts, Vilkas closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He shifted on the grass, trying to get comfortable. The sound of crickets chirping, the last of the logs on the fire popping, and Farkas' snoring entered his ears. He tried to ignore them, to force his mind to shut down, to just go to sleep, but sleep avoided him. Instead, he lay awake, tortured with want for a girl with the blood and soul of a dragon. His mind was consumed with nothing but Faye. What he would give to have her there with him, in his arms, lying beside him on the grass, under the stars, with her head on his chest.

In his mind's eye he envisioned her.

Behind his closed eyelids, Vilkas suddenly saw lustrous waves of gold spill around him. It was hers. Faye's. Her hair. It was everywhere. All around him. Above him hovered the greenest eyes he'd ever seen, so rich a shade of jade they resembled fresh spring leaves. They sparkled. Her eyes. They sparkled down at him. Into him. With a love that melted his lonely and rough-edged heart. Lips like a rose pulled into the most radiant smile, so radiant the sun would be jealous. He smiled back at her - how could he not in the face of such ethereal beauty - and lifted his hand, fingertips caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. She laughed, and the sound was like a wind chime. She rolled them over and he was suddenly looking down at her, grinning from ear to ear, unable to do much of anything else at finally being in her soothing presence.

Unexpectedly, her hand reached between them and grasped his hardened, naked flesh. Surprisingly, her hand was much larger and rougher than he remembered, though he didn't dwell on it. She guided him to her and then opened for him, like a flower, and he let himself slide into her. Vilkas groaned, the sound strangely echoing around him. Slender legs wrapped tight around his torso as he began to move within her, her back arching like a bow as she panted, her more than ample breasts rubbing tantalizingly against his bare chest. A needy grunt escaped his throat, again the sound echoing in his ears. They moved together, fluidly and perfectly in sync, and the pleasure she caused spiked and rippled as he drove into her faster. Her head fell back and her mouth opened but no sound came out. He wanted to hear her. He wanted to her those sweet, feminine sounds she made. But he couldn't focus on why he couldn't hear her as he neared the edge. Moments later, his muscles tensed and his hips snapped forward. He moaned her name desperately as white light burst behind his closed eyelids with the intensity of his release.

Panting and sweaty, Vilkas' eyelids slowly opened to the stars above him dotting the night sky. A shaky breath escaped him as he looked down to find his hand wrapped around himself, fingers sticky. He groaned, realizing what he'd just done. He closed his eyes again, his body still trembling. His release had been far more intense than any he'd previously had by touching himself. He knew it was because of her, because he'd thought of her.

Sluggishly, he rose to clean himself off at the river before returning to a nearby tree. He sat on the ground with his back against the tree trunk, one arm resting over a bent knee. His steel-colored eyes lifted to the moon as a gentle breeze ruffled his inky-black tresses. He sighed, resignedly. He wouldn't be able to sleep now. Not after the images that had played in his mind. All of his thoughts were of Faye now, and his hope that he would find her soon. The ache was back, stronger than before, his fantasy only numbing it momentarily. As he looked up at the stars, he wondered where she was. He wondered if she was safe and sound. Wondered if she was happy. Wondered if she was thinking of him. Maybe she was. Maybe she was watching the same stars. If she was…

"I miss you," Vilkas whispered, voice breaking, his nearly inaudible words immediately swept up and carried away with the midnight breeze and fallen leaves from the tree he was settled against.

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Faye's eyes were wide open, her body so stiff her muscles ached. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't blink. She couldn't respond to the lips that were currently gliding so passionately and expertly over her own.

With a wrenched cry, Faye tore her mouth away from Brynjolf's. Without thinking at all, her hand lifted itself on womanly instinct. Before Brynjolf could evade it, Faye slapped him across the face. Hard. The sound clashed against the still of the silence around them. Her chest was heaving, mouth tight, viridian orbs ignited with indignant fire. "Just because I let you kiss me once does _not_ mean that you've got some special privilege to do it whenever you feel like it!" Faye uttered stridently, face flushed, heated aggression rolling off her in dark, potent waves.

Brynjolf put his hand to his stinging cheek as he stared at her, utterly dumbstruck. He wanted to reply, but was unable to form words in his mouth, his ears still ringing from the powerful slap she'd given him.

"I-I... I can't believe you just did that! How.. how could you?! GODS! How selfish are you?!" Faye bit out, her glare caustic. Her hands went to his chest and she shoved him as hard as she could, ignoring how he didn't budge an inch. Brynjolf bristled at her vehement hostility, his nostrils flaring, but she went on. "You _know _how hard the last few days have been for me! You _know _how confused I've been! You _know_ how lost I've felt! And then you go and... and... DAMMIT BRYNJOLF!" Faye's glare intensified, if that were at all possible, and she screamed in unchecked enragement as she shoved his chest again.

The guild master caught her small wrists in his large hands, his grip unrelenting. "Is that what you think of me, lass?" The Nord asked, discontent and hurt giving an edge to his voice, eyes hard and narrowed, mouth set in a firm line. "You think I'm taking advantage of you?"

The Breton gave the thief a baleful look. "I know you are."

Faye yelped when he yanked forcefully on her wrists, causing her body to slide roughly along the roof into his. "You're wrong." His voice was low and ridged, no longer containing its usual smoothness. There was something grave and forlorn in his face. "I'm simply claiming what is mine."

A spurt of panic flickered in her viridian eyes. The young woman jerked her eyes away, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Let me go. Right now, Brynjolf. I mean it."

"No." His grip tightened on her dainty wrists and she winced as his hold became painful, and her eyes snapped back to his. "You walked away from me once," Brynjolf uttered severely, his voice ragged and tight with emotion. "This time I'm not letting you go, lass."

Faye gave him a scathing look. "Don't you 'lass' me!" She snapped, ripping her wrists free from his hold. Finding it a relief to let off steam, she continued to berate him. With fire dancing in her eyes, she jabbed her pointer finger in his chest. "You… you think you can just… _possess_ me like any other object you've taken… but you can't!" Faye's spine straightened, and her chin tucked. "There's nothing between us anymore, Brynjolf."

A strange mixture of hurt and despondency shone in his sea green eyes. "There wasn't always nothing between us, lass." He reached out to stroke a finger down the smooth column of her throat. "There was something once. Something good. Something worth fighting for."

The blonde ducked her head and looked away. "I've moved on," she said as lightly as possible.

His hands shot out and grabbed her bare delicate shoulders, forcing her to meet his steely gaze. "You were never supposed to leave!"

"But I did!" Faye exclaimed as she brought her hands down hard on top of his arms breaking his hold on her. "I did leave. And even though the circumstances that led to me leaving weren't what I thought they were, I still left. It still happened. And in that time I forced myself to get over you. I finally moved on and fell for someone else. There's no erasing that," she stated strongly with a slash of her hand. "And now... now your back in my life, telling me you care for me, making a room for me in your house, kissing me!" Her shoulders slumped dismally as she exhaled heavily, as if she'd been holding her breath. "It's too much, too soon. So much has happened in the past few days. I feel... I feel like I'm being pulled in a million different directions, terrified I'll split at the seams," she finished quietly, her eyes starting to slide to the garden below.

Brynjolf caught her chin, preventing her from looking off to the side. "Look me in the eyes, lass, and tell me that kiss meant nothing to you," he asked thickly.

Faye watched the multitude of expressions running across Brynjolf's face. She saw desperation, hurt, jealousy, confusion, and something else she couldn't comprehend. "Brynjolf... you will always be my first love. You will always hold a special place in my heart. But…"

"You may have moved on, lass, but a piece of my heart is still with you," he murmured as he released her chin and raised his hand to her cheek to smooth his fingers down its softness. "That has to count for something."

"Brynjolf…" Faye whispered, her voice weak as the heat of his fingertips seeped into her skin.

"It isn't over, lass." His gaze grew impossibly tender as he murmured, stroking back her hair, "We. Are. Not. Over."

The wind caused long tendrils of honeyed hair to whip around her face as she stared up at him, biting her lip, emotions tumbling through her too quickly to name. "You're not making this easy," she murmured, her soft voice little more than a whisper. "Brynjolf… there's… there's someone else…"

His hand continued to gently stroke her hair, his green eyes warm yet aggrieved, a small sad smile on his lips. "The guy you were supposed to marry. I know. But you said you loved me more than him."

She shook her head, and clarified, "It's not him…" Her lips trembled uncontrollably and her vision blurred with hot tears. "The man I was supposed to marry... Farkas... he's one of my dearest friends. We each couldn't have the ones we wanted, so we decided to get married and make each other happy. But then I…" Her throat tightened, the confession on her tongue unable to move past her quivering lips.

The Nord's hand left her hair to cup the side of her neck, pale green eyes staring into hers. "You what, lass? Whatever it is, I will still want you."

Groaning in frustration, she pulled away from his touch. "Ugh… don't you see. You don't want _me_!"

He met her gaze, eyes narrowing, jaw set. "How can you say that?! I'm-!"

"No! I'm not what you think I am!" Faye yelled, cutting him off, before gesturing animatedly with both hands. "You have this image of me in your head, and it's wrong!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm… I'm not a good woman, Brynjolf. You think I am, but I'm not." The pathetic sound of her own voice broke every ounce of control she had in keeping her tears from falling. Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks as the confession she'd been dying to profess to him spilled from her lips. "The reason why I didn't get married was because… because I slept with the groom's brother," she uttered, her voice small and broken.

The thief's head lifted sharply, his eyes meeting hers. Now, with a name and face to the man she was supposed to marry, all of the pieces fell together. Everything fell into place, becoming clear. "Vilkas. The new Harbinger of the Companions. He's the one. The one you..." His voice trailed off, unable to say the words. He didn't want to think about how another man had touched her. He didn't want to think about how he wouldn't be her first. All he could hope for was that he would be her last.

"Yes," Faye affirmed in a quiet voice, and then shook her head in despair. "I gave Farkas my word and then I…" A choked sob escaped her. "Gods, Brynjolf. I'm… I'm such a terrible person. Vex was right. I am worse than her."

The guild master took her small face in his hands, gazing deeply into her eyes from behind stray locks of rust-colored hair. "Oh Faye… sweetheart… you're not like Vex. You're not heartless and selfish." His voice was low and gentle, sympathetic. "I understand why you did it. You did it out of desperation. It was because you didn't _want_ to get married, lass. You didn't want to marry that guy. And when an opportunity presented itself, you acted on it. You saw a way out and you took it. And I know the reason why."

Large, watering, emerald orbs stared up at him, wide and vulnerable, crowned by deeply angled blonde brows. "You do?"

He nodded slowly, his pale green eyes darkening considerably as his thumbs stroked her cheekbones. "Because you're still in love with me."

Her mouth opened to protest because he'd gotten it all wrong, but his mouth came down on hers, silencing her. His large hands cradled her cheeks, keeping her in place so she couldn't escape him again. His lips pressed hard against hers, deeply sensual and raw and just a little possessive. He slid one hand around to grasp the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss while he wrapped his other arm around her waist, bringing her closer until the length of her soft body pressed against his. Her small hands came up to press against his broad shoulders, trying to push him away, but he barely budged. "Give me five minutes, lass," he murmured raggedly against her lips when he felt her pushing him away, resisting him. "Five minutes, and I promise I can make you admit you want me."

Faye sputtered for breath, but before she could respond, his lips slanted over hers again. His lips moved against hers with soft greed and uninhibited desire. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip - as if he owned it and sought to sear his name across it - before his tongue slid into her mouth hungrily, forcing her mouth open. A needy moan vibrated against her when his tongue touched hers. The subtle taste of champagne and snowberries was on his tongue, sweet and pure - just like her - and it only served to fuel his hunger for her, causing his deft fingers to move with vigor over her soft and supple body. Faye was about to shove his shoulders again, to push him away from her, when Brynjolf abruptly broke the kiss and sharply lifted his head, his body tense and his face set hard in concentration, as he listened carefully.

Faye glared fiercely up at him for kissing her again without her permission. She pulled her hand back to slap him, but he caught her wrist right before her open palm could connect with his cheek. He didn't look down at her though, but rather tensed even more, listening harder. Faye's brows furrowed in confusion at his odd behavior, but then comprehension dawned on her as she realized that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Brynjolf only looked like that when enemies were near. The Breton opened her mouth to ask him what he sensed, but his hand slapped over her mouth. Faye's eyes narrowed on him for that and she was about to bite his hand in retaliation when Brynjolf suddenly rolled them over, right before a dagger imbedded itself in the chimney, exactly where Faye's head had been.

As they rolled down the side of the roof, Brynjolf pulled her protectively into his chest, falling with her in his arms. Squeaking, Faye tucked her face into his neck with her eyes clenched shut. A dizzy sort of fear came over her as they ran out of shingles and rolled right off the roof. In midair, Brynjolf pulled her closer to him and rolled on his back right before they landed in the garden below, the Nord's back taking the brunt of the fall. They landed with a heavy thud, the air rushing out of Brynjolf's lungs and blowing the hair back from Faye's face.

"Ahh, by Shor's great hairy balls that hurt," Brynjolf groaned, his breath coming in short quick gasps as he sought to get the air back into his lungs.

Faye's tightly closed eyes slowly opened to find herself lying on top of Brynjolf, his arms wrapped securely around her. She stared at her hands that were pressed against his chest before letting her eyes move lower. Heat rose to her cheeks as she noticed the entire length of her body was pressed against the hard planes of his. She slowly dragged her eyes up his chest, his neck, his chin, until she reached his eyes. Brynjolf was staring down at her with blatant concern in his pale green eyes. "You alright, lass?"

Faye nodded slowly, cheeks still painted pink. "Yeah. I'm fine." Her eyes shifted to the side to determine just what had broken their fall. Once she did, her eyes widened. "Uhh, Brynjolf... you've got a rose bush up your ass."

"Yeah, no shit," he muttered through clenched teeth, pain etched into his features. "You wanna move, lass…" He looked down at her then with a grin as wicked as sin, green eyes dancing with mischief. "I can't get off until you do," he murmured, his voice as sweet and rich as honey.

Faye was certain her face flamed red at the thief's insinuation. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she replied tartly as she scrambled up, hurriedly removing herself from on top of him.

Once she was on her feet, she staggered a little, her center of gravity slightly offset from the fall. Her eyes looked frantically around the garden for the one who had thrown the dagger, but she saw nothing but trees and bushes and flowers in the minimal light the moon provided. Brynjolf groaned in pain and Faye bent over and put his arm around her shoulders while her arms went around his torso, and gently eased him up. Brynjolf hissed in pain but together they managed to get him to his feet, though he leaned heavily on her causing her arms to tighten around his middle.

"Damn… I think I broke my coccyx," Brynjolf grumbled before grinning roguishly down at the tiny Breton supporting his weight. "You wanna see it, lass?"

Faye stared up at him, appalled. "Will you be serious for once? Someone just tried to kill us!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I'm serious enough. Speaking of which, I think I'll need a full body massage after this. Care to help with that?"

"Are you serious?" The Dragonborn asked incredulously, her eye ticking in forewarning.

An impish grin played around the corners of his lips as her ire became more apparent. "What do you think, lass?"

"I think you're utterly despicable," she responded curtly.

With an unholy gleam in his eyes, he responded, "That's a shame, because I think you're utterly bewitching."

Flushing, Faye glanced away. "Not now, Brynjolf," she reprimanded as she summoned magicka to her hand. She put a glowing hand to his back, gently pushing her healing magic into his skin.

The guild master sighed in relief as the pain in his back began to fade. "Fine, fine. I'll settle for a kiss to make it better," he uttered, winking at her.

Smiling back with saccharine sweetness, the Breton said, "Keep talking, Brynjolf, and I'll be happy to slap your other cheek."

The redhead grinned luridly at her. "Now things are getting kinky."

She gave a harsh, derisive laugh. "Sweet Mara! Do you ever stop?!"

His grin became wicked. "Only if you beg me too, lass."

Faye's green eyes narrowed on him and she curled her hand into a tight fist, ready to punch that smug and lecherous grin off his face, when a cold and menacing voice broke through the silence, "We really hate to break up this little love feast you two have going on, but we have work to do. Blades must be used and blood must be spilt. You know. Just another day on the job." The words spoken may have been a bit jovial, but they sounded raucous and dangerous.

Brynjolf and Faye spun around to find a male Argonian and a female Dunmer approaching them in skintight black and red armor, the Black Brotherhood emblem stitched on their armor.

_Gods save me… _Faye groaned inwardly, fear and apprehension rising like bile in her throat. A cloud passed over the moon, blocking its light and casting them all in darkness.

"Don't come any closer," Brynjolf stated firmly as he stepped protectively in front of Faye's body, his movements fluid with feline grace, his fingers fluttering on the hilt of his hidden blade.

Faye had to squint in the sudden darkness, but she could see the two assassins had stopped a few feet away from them, but they had turned to face each other, as if they didn't find either her or Brynjolf as a threat. "Did you kill the Dunmer, Veezara?" The Dunmer asked her fellow assassin.

"No, Gabriella," the Argonian answered with a shake of his head. "She escaped. She was prepared. She knew we would be coming."

"Hmm. Well, we'll track her down later. Mercer wants all three of them dead," the one named Gabriella stated.

"Alright. Lets take care of these two quickly. I want to get home in time for Nazir's lamb stew," the one named Veezara chirped happily, before he nodded his head towards Faye and Brynjolf. "Which do you want?"

Gabriella's blood red eyes flickered to Faye with keen interest. "I want the innocent one."

Veezara snorted. "Innocence is life's greatest illusion, sister."

"True, but I bet her blood tastes sweet," Gabriella answered while licking her lips, as if she could already taste Faye's blood on them.

"Touch her and I take your life," Brynjolf hissed as he stepped towards the two assassins, his fingers flexing on his blade's hilt, green eyes lit from within with baneful fire.

Gabriella chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. "What a cute little thief. So protective. Don't worry, sweet thing, she'll die quick and her sins will be baptized in blood and fear. As will yours."

The two assassins each removed their own daggers and twirled them expertly around their fingers as they got in a fighting stance.

"Stay behind me, lass," Brynjolf whispered firmly to Faye as he too unsheathed his dagger and spun it idly around his middle finger, his body moving into a battle position, ready to defend or attack.

Faye gulped as she did what she was told and stayed where she was, a few steps behind Brynjolf. Realizing she was going to have to fight yet again in a dress and without any weapons or potions, the Dragonborn drew in a deep breath, cleared her throat, and focused her Thu'um.

"This is a virgin blade," Veezara said nonchalantly while twirling the dagger in his hand. "And it thirsts for blood. I think…" The cloud that had been covering the moon abruptly passed, and they suddenly found themselves illuminated with the bright white light of the moon overhead. The Argonian's voice faded slowly and both assassins stared wide-eyed at Faye.

The Breton's blonde eyebrows started to furrow in confusion at the sudden silence and at the way the two assassin's were looking at her, as if they'd seen a ghost or a dragon or both. That's when she realized to her horror that they were not just staring at her… they were staring at her face.

Her very _exposed_ face.

Faye abruptly gasped, mouth gaping in horrible realization. Her green eyes flickered with utter dread to the white silk headscarf and facial veil that were tangled in the rose bush where she and Brynjolf had landed after falling off the roof.

_Oh no..._

A wave of lightheadedness and nausea hit her hard as the extent of her mistake sank in, her deadly mistake, and she had to reach out for something to keep her standing on her wobbly legs or else she'd faint.

_Oh no... oh gods no... no no no..._

"By Sithis!" Veezara gasped, his eyes never leaving Faye's face.

"It... it cannot be..." Gabriella stammered, her crimson eyes wide with astonishment.

"It's... it's… the Deathstalker..." Veezara finished for his fellow assassin, awe and amazement evident in his voice.

Utterly confused, Brynjolf turned his chin to look at Faye over his shoulder and was shocked to see the flash of raw panic and fright on Faye's deathly pale face.

The Dragonborn's lips partly slightly and two trembling, terror filled words fell from her mouth, "Ohhh shiiiit..."


	9. Chapter 9

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 9**

There once was a woman.

A beautiful woman with ivory skin, golden hair like the sun, and the eyes of a dove - so green in color that the summer leaves wilted with envy. She was only ever seen at night, only at night. Darkness being her most faithful and ever present companion.

And her name was... Fianna.

But no one knew her by that name. Most knew her as the Deathstalker, for when you felt her sweet breath on the back of your neck, you knew that death was upon you, calling your name into Oblivion.

She was supposed to be a Breton. Some say her father was Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedric Prince of bloodshed and destruction. Some believed she was the wife of Sithis, an avatar of evil and the Void. Some held she wasn't even real. The Imperials considered her more of a natural disaster than a woman, as her death toll was higher than any hurricane or tsunami or tornado known to history. For when it came to death, the woman was an artist. An artist in the truest sense of the word. With her dagger as her paintbrush, the blood of her victims as her paint, and the whole of Cyrodiil as her canvas.

She was a legendary predator, a remorseless assassin, a homicidal cutthroat, and one of the most feared creatures in the world. The Deathstalker was the most wanted criminal in all of Tamriel, even more so than the Gray Fox in his time. The bounty on her head was enough for one to retire in the life of luxury, to live like royalty for the rest of one's life.

Everyone was after her. Imperial soldiers, bounty hunters, the Dark Brotherhood, families of her victims seeking revenge... the list was endless. Even the Emperor of Tamriel, Emperor Titus Mede II, wanted her head for the murder of his wife and child. But none had ever caught her. She was a ghost, a spirit, a wraith like creature that stalked the living and lived in the shadows.

Her last known victim was the Keeper of the Dark Brotherhood in Cyrodiil. After that, she was gone. Underground. Simply vanished without a trace. Nobody had ever seen her since. Some say she died, some say she retired, some swear they saw her boarding a ship to Skyrim.

But that was over ten years ago, and the Deathstalker soon became nothing but a legend, a myth, a ghost story parents tell their kids at night.

That is, until eight months ago, when whispers of the Deathstalker's return began to form in the shadows of Skyrim.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"This is our lucky day, Veezara," Gabriella murmured to her cohort, a sinister sort of glee to her voice. "The longest standing contract in the history of the Dark Brotherhood is for the assassination of the Deathstalker."

"To kill the Deathstalker... The Dark Brotherhood hasn't done such a thing since the assassination of Pelagius," Veezara replied with just as much enthusiasm and excitement as the female assassin standing beside him.

The most menacing and disturbing smile curved on the Dark Elf's thin lips. "Her death… it will be historical. And here she is, caught off guard without weapons or armor. Truly helpless. And look at her, she's shaking like a leaf she's so frightened. Oh, the little lamb."

Veezara eyed Faye skeptically. "She's… not quite what I imagined."

The Dunmer agreed. "Nor I. But it doesn't matter. The contract calls for her blood."

Enraged, Brynjolf bellowed, "You will not touch a hair on her head!"

Gabriella laughed. "You can't stop the Dark Brotherhood."

"I'm not going to stop you." Brynjolf laughed darkly, the sound threatening and foreboding. "I'm going to kill you."

"You can try, thief," Gabriella hissed at Brynjolf before looking seriously at her partner. "The girl is mine, Veezara."

"Very well, sister," Veezara responded coolly as his eyes flickered to Brynjolf. "The ginger is mine." The Argonian slid smoothly back towards the darkness behind him, disappearing into the shadows provided by the large willows in Maven Black-Briar's garden. Brynjolf's body tensed, his senses sharp, his mind focused on his surroundings as he waited for the Argonian's attack.

Gabriella approached Faye with a sort of swagger that portrayed the confidence the Dunmer held. "Do not be afraid. Death is but the time to sleep forever, in the Void."

"You want me? Come and get me," Faye taunted, holding her ground and taking a battle stance.

Gabriella laughed low to herself as she gazed upon the small, fragile looking Breton standing as tall as she could with her head held high and an alluring fire dancing across her forest green eyes. She was an endearing little thing. Oh, how she wished she could keep this one as a pet. Their new torture chamber was in dire need of something lovely, something decorative. But it wasn't to be. The contract called for her blood. With that in mind, Gabriella gripped her dagger and came at the tiny Breton with everything she had, hoping to end it quickly for the little thing.

Panic rose quickly within Faye as the Dark Elf came at her fast, so fast the woman was a blur of red and black. Faye's eyes were wide as she frantically ducked and dodged the vicious swipes of the assassin's blade aimed for her flesh. Sweet Mara, the Dunmer was fast and so damn hard to follow as she attacked her relentlessly with her dagger.

Becoming irritated with the Breton's surprisingly adept ability at evasion, Gabriella yelled fiercely as she thrust her blade forward, hoping to stab the Breton in the gut, but Faye fell back on the ground before it could reach its mark. The assassin brought her blade down hard, but Faye rolled it the side at the last minute, just barely missing the assassin's blade.

Faye hoped to her feet, tearing the side of her dress in the process, and jumped back just as the Dark Elf swung her blade upwards towards Faye's chest. The assassin slashed sideways with swift and calculated movements as Faye spun to the side in order to dodge the blade aimed for her chest, but the steel sliced into the Breton's upper arm causing her to cry out in pain.

Triumph gleamed in the crimson eyes of her assailant, as Faye staggered back, blood trickling down her arm and seeping into the malachite silk of her strapless gown. Faye's eyes fell to the gash, which was thankfully not deep before returning to her assailant with ferocious emerald fire. The Dark Elf smiled victoriously as she raised her blade to make a killing strike, the same time Faye drew in a sharp breath, ready to release a shout of fire breath upon her opponent.

There was a sudden whizzing sound in the air before an arrow flew straight through the side of Gabriella's cowl, impaling itself in her temple. It completely tore into her skull, blood running out of her blood red eyes, killing her instantly. Her body hit the ground with a dull thud. Faye spun around to find the shooter when her eyes landed on a familiar set of Nightingale armor.

_Karliah_, Faye thought with a sigh of relief.

The Nightingale was perched on a branch in a tall tree, her bow drawn. Karliah stood swiftly and did a front flip off the branch, landing flawlessly on the ground right beside Faye.

"Dragonborn," Karliah said pleasantly in greeting, and though every part of the Dark Elf was covered from head to toe in her Nightingale armor but her eyes, Faye could hear the smile in the Dunmer's voice.

"Nightingale," Faye responded just as pleasantly, thankful to have her there.

Noticing the blood running down Faye's arm, Karliah dug into her pouch and pulled out a small red vial. "Health potion," the Dark Elf explained before she tossed it to Faye.

The vial bounced clumsily around in Faye's hands, almost falling and shattering on the ground. Once the Breton had the bottle firmly in her hand she gave the other woman an embarrassed smile as she sheepishly rubbed the back of her head with her free hand, and muttered, "Oops." Ducking her head to hide her blushing cheeks, Faye twisted off the cap. "Thank you," she replied gratefully, before she downed the bitter liquid and watched as the gash on her arm sealed shut.

The sound of steel colliding with steel caused Faye to turn her head sharply to see how Brynjolf was fairing against the Argonian. Faye didn't see the Nord since it was dark and hard to see, but those were the places where Brynjolf thrived in combat, moving with the grace of a panther as he blended in with the shadows, using them to his advantage.

After a few seconds of searching, she finally spotted him, just a flicker in the moonlight. The guild master… he moved so fast and striked so suddenly as he appeared and disappeared out of the shadows. Faye watched in awe as Brynjolf tore down his opponent with his remarkable speed and stealth. The Nord would materialize from the shadows behind the Argonian, then there would be a flashing of steel and the spraying of blood as he attacked his unsuspecting opponent. Then, in the blink of an eye, he would vanish into the shadows just as quickly as he appeared. The guild master was fast, so fast, just a blur of movement, and the Argonian wasn't able to follow him.

Faye watched as once more Brynjolf materialized out of the shadows in front of the Argonian, and in one deft motion, he shoved his dagger up and into the Argonian's jaw, going straight through the bottom and the roof of his mouth, more than likely piercing his brain. The Argonian twitched slightly for a few moments, a slight gurgle of blood in the back of his throat, before going limp, dead. Brynjolf ripped his dagger out and the Argonian fell to the ground at the guild master's feet.

Breathing heavily, Brynjolf's pale green eyes slowly lifted and caught Faye's gaze. With the back of his hand, he brushed back a few stray auburn locks that had fallen in his face and gave her a smug smirk.

Faye immediately sagged with relief. They were all safe and alive. It was over.

Suddenly, four more assassins leapt over the back wall and landed effortlessly on their feet in the garden right in front of her and Karliah.

"By the Nine," Faye groaned, hating herself for even thinking that the fight was over. It was never over.

Brynjolf materialized from the shadows behind one of the assassins and sank his dagger into the unsuspecting man's back, blood spraying across the guild master's face and dress clothes. With a swift tug, Brynjolf removed his dagger and the assassin sank to the ground, lifeless. The assassin beside him whirled on him and started dueling with Brynjolf while the other two flew towards Faye and Karliah.

One came at Karliah hard, his movements swift and powerful, causing the Nightingale to feint and dodge before the assassin with graceful animal like movements that Faye could never hope to possess. But Faye didn't have time to stand there and admire the Dark Elf's prowess as the other assassin charged straight for her.

Before the assassin's blade could reach her throat, Faye focused her Thu'um and drew in a breath before exhaling with a shout of, "ZUN HAAL VIIK!" The Dragonborn's shout of Disarm defied steel, as it ripped the weapon from her opponent's grasp and caused it to fly into her hand. With her opponent's weapon in her hand, Faye lunged forward and attacked him with his own dagger, swinging up into his chest with all of the force she could muster in her weak arms. It tore through his armor and sunk into his flesh with a sickening thud that vibrated all the way up to her shoulder. She gave the dagger one more shove, driving it in to the hilt. Blood gushed from the wound and onto her hand. Faye tried to pull the dagger out of the assassin's chest, but it seemed to be lodged in his ribcage.

"You bitch," the assassin uttered, the words sounding more like a blood-filled gurgle, before he collapsed forward onto her, dead. Faye shrieked as she fell to the ground with the dead assassin on top of her. She shoved at him almost hysterically before she was able to toss the lifeless body off her own, and stood swiftly. Faye stood panting heavily as she stared down at the corpse at her feet. Blood was splattered across her dress, and covering her hand.

A shrill cry caused Faye's head to whip around to find Karliah struggling with her opponent. The Nightingale was on the ground using her bow to block the relentless attacks of the assassin's blade. Faye tried to shout, but she coughed instead, unable to use a shout just yet.

Worried and frightened for the Nightingale, Faye looked around frantically in search of a weapon in order to help. Her green eyes caught sight of a dagger sticking out of a tree trunk nearby and her heart raced. The Breton took off and ran for the dagger trying hard not to trip on the hem of her dress. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the blade and after a few forceful tugs she was able to pull it from the bark. She whirled around, eyes landing on the assassin who was fighting closely with Karliah.

Faye got in a ready stance, eyes zeroed in on the assassin with burning determination. She'd seen Vilkas do it countless of times. She could do it too. She just had to focus. This was her chance to show she wasn't weak, that she could handle a blade.

"Hey… milk drinker!" Faye yelled, trying to get the assassin's attention. Unexpectedly, it worked, as the assassin stopped mid-swing and turned swiftly to face her. While her opponent was distracted, Karliah used her Nightingale Stealth power and became invisible, quickly moving away from the assassin looming over her. Sensing this was her chance to prove herself, Faye took a deep breath. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she sent the dagger spinning towards the assassin. Her eyes grew wide with surprise and exhilaration as she realized it was heading directly for the center of his chest.

Faye's elation, however, was short lived as the hilt of the dagger hit the assassin's chest instead of the blade. The dagger fell harmlessly to the ground at the assassin's feet.

Faye's stomach dropped as a horrible and empty sensation landed heavy in her gut. It was terrible… the feeling of weakness that suddenly overwhelmed her. Her ego - beaten, abused, and trodden on as it was - plummeted even lower. Gods, she sucked. She was so weak. It was becoming unbearably embarrassing. How was it she was still alive? If it was luck, she feared it was probably running out by now.

The assassin slowly dragged his eyes from the dagger up to her face and then… laughed. He was... laughing at her. He was _actually_ laughing at her! _Gods blood_!

Faye's hands clenched in anger as fury blurred her vision. The Breton sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled, "LISS SLEN NUS!" Wisps of water flew out of her mouth, shooting across the garden like an arrow towards the laughing assassin. The assassin gasped as the blue liquid hit him square in the chest, immediately encasing his body in ice. Faye smirked smugly, looking triumphant, as she watched her Thu'um freeze the no longer laughing assassin solid in a cube of ice.

_Who's laughing now, bitch?! _Faye's mind cheered, feeling exultant and victorious for once. The Breton had to restrain herself from pumping her fist in the air and doing a little victory dance.

Karliah suddenly appeared at Faye's side, her bow drawn as she aimed at the frozen assassin. The Nightingale released her arrow and it went soaring through the air, shattering the assassin into tiny pieces on impact.

"That was… awesome," Faye uttered in wonder.

Karliah smirked at the Breton under her mask. "I know."

"That was the sexiest thing I have ever seen."

Both women turned to find Brynjolf staring at them, impressed, a crooked smile on his face. Brynjolf's smile turned devious as he looked at Faye. "Well, except for that throw, lass. That was pathetic," he said while trying to hold back the bursts of laughter that wished to escape him.

Faye's smug grin fell and she snapped, "Shut up!"

Karliah ignored the bickering that was going on between the Breton and the Nord as she looked at the bodies that littered Maven Black-Briar's garden with insurgent waves of manic glee. These were six hard trained assassins and they'd eliminated all of them without any serious injuries. The grin that curved the Dunmer's lips under her mask was a disturbing cross between a crazed grin and a cocksure smirk. "Mercer doesn't stand a chance," the Dark Elf whispered almost giddily to herself. Her gloved fingers absently went to touch the pocket of her armor that held the sketch of her and Gallus, and also the letter Vilkas had written to Faye. Her revenge was practically guaranteed now. She could feel it. With Faye and Brynjolf's help, Mercer would die by her hand. She was sure of it now. She'd get vengeance for Gallus' murder.

Karliah was suddenly pulled from her thoughts when she heard Brynjolf ask Faye a question Karliah herself had wanted to ask the Dragonborn.

"Faye..." Brynjolf started haltingly, eying the blonde charily, "why did they call you the Deathstalker? And why does that name sound so familiar?"

"The Deathstalker is the most wanted criminal in all of Tamriel. A master assassin and the greatest calamity of our time," Karliah provided, her violet eyes also watching the Breton charily. "There have been rumors that the Deathstalker was spotted in Skyrim about eight months ago." The Dunmer tilted her head to the side and watched as Faye's body visibly tensed. "That was about the same time you were arrested by Imperial soldiers, wasn't it, Faye?"

Faye bristled at the Dunmer's insinuations and interrogatory tactics. "Yes," the Dragonborn answered, her voice tight and emotionless, giving away nothing. "Imperial soldiers arrested me after I quit the Thieves Guild about eight months ago. But that doesn't mean-"

Karliah continued, interrupting her, "You were taken to Helgen to be executed immediately. Other than being a member of the Stormcloaks, I've never heard of someone being sentenced to death so swiftly. You must have done something truly terrible. What was it, Faye? What did you do? Why were you arrested?"

A muscle twitched in Faye's clenched jaw at the Nightingale's aggressive questioning. "I don't want to talk about it," she responded through clenched teeth.

But Karliah pressed on, oblivious or indifferent to the Breton's obvious discomfort. "What happened, Faye? Did your hood fall back and you were recognized? Was that it?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it," Faye seethed while taking a threatening step forward towards the Dunmer.

"That's enough, Karliah," Brynjolf snapped, stepping between the two women, staring down the Dark Elf. "If she doesn't wish to speak of it, then she doesn't have too..." The Nord turned his head to look at Faye. "...for now," he finished, the hard glint in his eyes promising she would have to explain herself later. "Just tell me, lass, will this cause problems for us?"

"No," Faye answered firmly. "Those two assassins were the only ones who thought I was the Deathstalker. And now they're dead," she finished, her voice cold and as sharp as a knife. "There are no other loose ends."

"Except for us," Karliah supplied, her body tense and rigid, as if she expected Faye to attack her.

Faye stood gaping, her eyes shifting disbelievingly between the two. "You... you can't possibly think I'm this Deathstalker?" The blonde asked incredulously. "Do you?" Brynjolf shared a wary and skeptical look with Karliah. Faye's ire spiked. "DO YOU?!"

"No, lass," Brynjolf responded quickly, his voice gentle in a placating manner, as if to soothe her. Faye immediately hated that voice. It made her feel like some wild and dangerous creature he was trying to subdue and appease, to manipulate under his control. "I don't think you're this Deathstalker." Despite the warm and understanding look on the guild master's face, his words rang hollow and she knew he was lying to her. He was just saying what she wanted to hear so that she'd stay with them. So that she'd be under his control.

Unable to stand looking at him, Faye turned her gaze to the Dunmer. "And what about you? Do you believe me?"

Karliah folded her arms as she stared the Breton down, her lavender eyes glistening in the moonlight behind her mask. "It doesn't matter what I believe. A Nightingale shall never turn on another Nightingale. Any secrets either of you have will be kept by me. Any enemies you have will meet my blade. We stick together. No matter what."

"Of course, I'd have to be a Nightingale for that to apply," Faye stated despairingly but with a bitter edge to her voice, bunching her hands into fists at her sides as tears swam in her jade eyes.

Though no one could see it under her Nightingale armor, a triumphant smirk curled on the Dunmer's lips. "Of course."

Faye's hands began to tremble with rage at her sides. This... this right here was the other reason why she left the Thieves Guild. They were selfish creatures that took and took from others. They never did anything selfless, they were never completely on your side, and they never had your back. Everything could be traded, exchanged, or bartered with in order to better themselves, regardless of how it would affect others. Forcing her voice to be even, Faye replied, "I will consider it."

"You have one week." Karliah's stern voice left no room for argument, and the thinly veiled threat was heard loud and clear.

Faye nodded with one jerk of her head, then immediately turned on her heel and marched over to the rose bush. She snatched up her silk headscarf and facial veil and put them on so her face was covered. She then stormed for the front of Maven Black-Briar's mansion where the carriages were waiting so she could get back to Brynjolf's house to pack.

Brynjolf's hand shot out and grabbed her by her upper arm when she passed him and yanked her back to him. "Wait, Faye-"

With an inarticulate sound of rage, the Dragonborn twisted and shoved at his broad shoulders causing him to shockingly stumble back a bit from the force she put behind it. "_I'm_ going to Whiterun!" She yelled at him before stomping towards Maven's mansion.

"I'm coming with you!" Brynjolf called back as he trailed after her.

"And so am I," added Karliah, unwilling to let Faye out of her sight until she saw the Dragonborn wearing Nightingale armor.

Faye merely grumbled, "Whatever."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

An hour later, Karliah, Brynjolf, and Faye were riding on horseback across the open fields of Skyrim with only the moon to guide them. Brynjolf had changed into his guild master armor and Faye felt much better dressed in her usual brown thief armor, her hood pulled tight over her head and her weapons and pack with her. The young Breton was currently riding ahead of the other two, still furious with them. Thankfully, they were both giving her the space she needed.

When they'd reached the Riften stables where Brynjolf and Karliah's horses were boarded, Faye had been surprised and happy to find that she also had a horse waiting for her. She'd forgotten how she'd bought a horse while chasing after Farkas out of the bridal suite. Her horse was a mustang with a solid copper-reddish coat, a white mane and tail, and a white stripe down its nose. It was the same horse that had deserted her a week ago when it had flung her to the ground the moment Sahloknir had appeared and had taken off without even trying to protect her.

"You can't be such a coward from now on," Faye told the horse beneath her as they raced across the flat planes of Riften towards Whiterun.

The horse whinnied in response.

"I'm the Dragonborn. That means dragons will be attacking me. A lot. Unfortunately, I suck at my job. That means you have to step in and protect me, not run away like you did last time, you big coward."

The horse snorted and shook its head.

"You were too a coward. You were running scared with your tail between your legs before I even hit the ground. You can't do that again. You'll need to find your nerve and help me from now on. Vilkas won't always be there to protect me like he did last time."

The horse huffed in resignation before uttering a neigh in understanding.

The moment Vilkas' name left her lips, longing snaked around Faye's heart, squeezing mercilessly. Excitement and relief, yet a bit of fear and apprehension entered her system as she realized she was actually going to see him in three days time. The noose currently wrapped tightly around her heart loosened slightly as tousled onyx hair, soft pink lips, a deep gravelly voice, and intense silver eyes surround by black war paint entered her mind. She missed him. So much. The yearning was consuming. The ache for him palpable.

But then the rope tightened almost painfully as the image of Aela putting her hand on Vilkas' shoulder as if it belonged there entered her mind as well. Unexpected tears pricked at the Dragonborn's eyelids. The image… the memory of them together the morning after Kodlak's death when she'd brought him that sweet roll… it left her feeling raw and empty inside. Faye couldn't deny that she was afraid, so very afraid to face Vilkas and Aela. She was terrified that if she saw them together with her own eyes that it would become a reality and not just a nightmare. Vilkas didn't love her, she knew that, but she feared what it would do to her already wounded heart if she saw them together.

But there was a bright spot lingering in her mind, a small light of hope that left her feeling more terrified than the thought of seeing them together. She couldn't help but think that maybe she was wrong about Vilkas. She'd been wrong about Brynjolf. She'd thought he'd gone back to Vex when he hadn't. And now, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd been wrong about Vilkas as well. Maybe he didn't return to Aela. Maybe he was waiting for her. It… it gave her hope.

But hope was a treacherous thing.

It would shatter her completely if she was wrong.

Faye was pulled from her musings when she was forced to yank on the reins to steer her horse away from a muddy trench in her path. Faye immediately composed herself, briskly brushing the back of her hand across her eyes within her hood, trying to wipe away the evident dampness there.

She hated her tears. She detested her emotional heart. She loathed how weak just the mere thought of Vilkas made her. She despised being so utterly pathetic. She couldn't afford to be so weak anymore.

With grim determination, the Dragonborn dug her heels into the horse's side and took off down the path, letting the horse take her home to her heart.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three days later, Faye was walking down the streets of Whiterun with Brynjolf on one side and Karliah on the other. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the city in vibrant colors of purple and orange as the merchants began closing their stalls and shops for the night.

For the past three days she'd pushed the two thieves hard, being unimaginably anxious to return home, and was a bit surprised when she heard no complaints from either of them. It had occurred to her that her two traveling companions were just as eager to get to Whiterun as she was, but for different reasons.

It seemed to her that Karliah was eager to make them both Nightingales so she could seek her revenge against Mercer, while Brynjolf was eager for Faye's life as a Companion to be over. Faye wasn't eager for either of those things. She was not eager to give her soul away by swearing to protect Nocturnal and her shrines even after death, and she sure as hell was not eager to face the Companions and suffer whatever punishment they had installed for her, be it a few punches for her treacherous and betraying behavior or banishment from Jorrvaskr.

Faye was hoping for the beating. She knew she deserved it for what she'd done to Farkas, and she couldn't even fathom the pain she would endure if she were to actually be cast out of the Companions.

Faye chewed nervously on her bottom lip and her eyes remained on her feet as she walked, trailing slightly behind Brynjolf and Karliah. She was trying to decide whom she should talk to first when she entered Jorrvaskr. Her first thought was Farkas. She needed to apologize to him, and seeing anyone else before him would just be disrespectful and insulting to him. But she couldn't ignore how her heart and soul craved assiduously to see Vilkas' face and to confess how she felt about him and hopefully take up where they last left off. The mere thought made her heart skip a beat and her cheeks turn pink.

As she thought of Vilkas, a sudden image appeared in her head that made the young Breton smile to herself. She couldn't help but think about the dance she'd had with Brynjolf at Maven Black-Briar's mansion. Brynjolf had been so suave and confident, his movements flawless as he spun and twirled her across the dance floor, and she couldn't help but think what it would've been like if Vilkas had been the one dancing with her that night instead of Brynjolf.

The image that came to her mind made her giggle to herself.

Vilkas would probably have no idea what he was doing or would've relied heavily on the small about of dance lessons Kodlak had taught him as a boy. The Nord warrior would've been so stiff, would've probably stepped on her toes, would've grumbled and cursed under his breath at his ineptness and insecurity, and if he even tried the risqué move Brynjolf had of dipping her down low, he most likely would've caused both of them to topple over and fall to the ground in a heap of limbs, both bursting into peels of laughter.

As the scene played out in her head, Faye's giggling increased, earning curious and wary looks from both Brynjolf and Karliah who were walking slightly in front of her.

As the Breton continued to giggle to herself, the two thieves couldn't help but wonder if the Dragonborn had finally lost it. She had pushed herself hard over the past three days. She hardly ate, didn't speak, and rarely slept in her restless need to return to Whiterun. She must be sleep deprived and slightly delirious, they both thought.

Moments later, the trio stopped in front of the Bannered Mare. The Dunmer turned to face the Breton. "You go and handle your Companion business," Karliah told Faye. "We'll get three rooms and be waiting for you here. Come see us as soon as you're done." And with that, the Dark Elf disappeared behind the inn's front door.

Brynjolf turned his sea green eyes upon the Dragonborn. "Do you want me to go with you, lass?"

Faye shook her head. "No. I need to do this alone."

Even with her hood on, Brynjolf saw the way she bit her bottom lip, a clear sign that she was nervous and apprehensive. Brynjolf would be lying if he said he wasn't worried too. He was afraid she'd enter that mead hall and never return. He was afraid he was going to lose her. But he also knew that she'd never be able to be with him if she didn't end this chapter of her life. She needed closure here before she could move on to a new life with him. Brynjolf stared down at the tiny Breton standing before him, his eyes hotly drinking in her small form. He wanted to burn every detail of her into his memory in case she didn't return. Although if she didn't, he'd certainly be chasing after her in a heartbeat.

The guild master knew Faye was still mad at him and would probably push him away, but he needed to hold her. He needed to feel her in his arms. Almost unconsciously, his arms slowly wrapped around her small shoulders before pulling her into a warm and tight embrace. Brynjolf sighed contentedly when she didn't push him away, but rather returned his embrace by wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'll be waiting for you, lass," Brynjolf whispered against her hood by her ear. "And whatever is said in there, just remember that I'm the one who wants to love you. Remember that I will build my world around you. Know that I see my future in you, lass."

Faye didn't respond. Instead, she gave him a reassuring squeeze before pulling back. Brynjolf didn't want to let her go, but he didn't have a choice in the matter. He couldn't force her to stay with him. She'd resent him for that. No, she had to go. For now. Only for now.

As the Dragonborn walked away from him, Brynjolf's keen green eyes followed her, watching her retreating form attentively until she disappeared from his sight.

A few minutes later and Faye found herself exactly where she wanted to be. _Home_, she thought with a sigh as her clover eyes roamed wistfully over the magnificent sight of Jorrvaskr standing before her. She'd missed it. She didn't realize just how much until that moment.

The Breton nibbled on her bottom lip fretfully as she slowly made her way up the multitude of steps that led her home. _They're all probably just now sitting down for dinner_, she thought anxiously. The moment she walked through those doors, all their eyes would be on her, judging her and most likely hating her. Faye swallowed the large lump that had suddenly lodged itself in her throat.

Once she reached the top of the steps she numbly stared at the two large wooden doors that would lead her inside. She reached out for the door handle, but stopped when she saw her hand shaking uncontrollably while it hovered above the handle. She kept her hand where it was, but drew in a long and deep breath to help settle her fraying nerves.

_You can do this. You can face them. You can face him. Courage, Faye. Courage_, the unbelievably nervous and trembling young woman chanted to herself as she tried to focus on calming her ragged breathing.

After a few more deep breaths, she let her hand fall heavily on the door handle and pushed the door open. She sucked in a quick breath before stepping inside, the large wooden door closing behind her.

Once inside, Faye's eyes scanned the mead hall before her and she was surprised to find it… empty. She learned forward slightly and looked to her right, then to her left. There was… no one. Nothing. No people, no sounds, no smells of food. Just… nothing.

_How odd_, Faye thought as she took a few cautious steps forward to the long dining table and ran her hand along its bare surface. It wasn't set for dinner like it usually was at this time of day. _Maybe they're all out hunting_, she thought, _or maybe there was a dragon spotted nearby and the Jarl asked for their help_. Honestly, those were the only two scenarios she could come up with that would warrant all of the Companions to be missing from Jorrvaskr at the same time, which was stranger still seeing as how they usually left at least one person behind.

_Maybe they're all downstairs_, Faye thought as she headed for the door that would lead to the living quarters. Once she was downstairs, she found that the long hallway was also deserted. _Maybe they all went to bed early_, she thought with a shrug.

The Breton moved quietly down the long and lonesome hallway in her thief armor towards Vilkas and Farkas' rooms. She hated the idea of waking either of them and disturbing them, especially if neither of them wanted to see her, but she had already worked up the courage to come see them and she couldn't back down now. As she drew closer to their rooms, she realized that she still had no idea what she was going to say to either of them. She trusted her heart would give her the right words to say when the time came, but she'd tried that once before after Kodlak's death and they'd apparently been the wrong words if Vilkas' reaction to them had been any indication.

The Dragonborn exhaled heavily and rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants as she turned down one of the side hallways and abruptly stopped. Farkas' room was on one side and Vilkas' room was on the other. The blonde shifted awkwardly on her feet as her mind raced. Who should she speak with first? Who should she apologize too first? Who did she want to see first? As the questions raced through her mind, her answer became clear.

Faye turned and walked over to his door and, with a trembling hand, opened it slowly, quietly. With her head swimming and her heartbeat roaring in her ears, Faye silently slipped inside his room, and closed his door behind her with a soft click.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 10**

Faye stood in the middle of his room with a lit candle in her hand as her only source of light, utterly surprised to find it vacant of any occupants. The Breton shifted awkwardly on her feet, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, although she was alone. It felt weird being in his room, without him in it. She looked around, biting her lip, not sure what to do now. Should she leave? He wouldn't want her to be there, in his room, without his permission. But she didn't want to leave. She wanted to stay… stay with the little pieces of him that were scattered about the room. She decided then that she would wait for his return.

Faye slowly walked forward, the candle flickering in her hand, before she placed it on his dresser. The Breton removed her bow and quiver, as well as her daggers and pack, and placed them on the floor beside his nightstand. She looked around his room then, not sure what to do with herself now.

After a few minutes, Faye leisurely walked towards his bookshelf. She reached out and ran her fingers almost reverently over the multitude of books that lined his bookshelf. There were books everywhere, lying on every surface of his room. They were stuffed to the brim in his bookshelf, strewn all over his floor, some resting on top of his desk, a few lying on his bed. With her index finger, she pulled out one book entitled: _Rising Threat volume II_. Faye smiled to herself as she opened it to the middle and skimmed through it. The book was about the fall of the Altmer kingdom during the Oblivion crisis and the rise of the Thalmor. Faye couldn't suppress the smile that curved her lips when she saw several pages had been earmarked, little scribbles were written in the margins, and certain names and dates had been circled. She remembered this book, remembered how his voice sounded when he read it out loud to her.

Faye closed the book and put it back where it belonged before walking over to his cluttered desk. Small stacks of books and several scribbled notes covered its surface. The blonde sat in his mahogany chair with her hands tucked under her thighs, her foot tapping carelessly on the ground. After a few minutes of staring mindlessly around his room, her eyes spotted a sweet roll resting on a plate on his desk. Faye licked her lips, realizing just how hungry she was. She reached over and picked up the sweet roll that had been untouched and took a bite. It was a little stale, but still good. She brought her legs up so her feet rested on the chair and her knees pressed against her chest as she continued to take little bites of the sweet roll.

As she chewed, she noticed a book was left open on his desk. Not wanting to get icing all over its pages, Faye used her elbow to pull the book towards her so she could read it. The book was called _Chance's Folly_. Curious, Faye used her elbow and wrist to open the book to the first page and started reading. She was instantly interested in the story, which was about a beautiful thief named Minevah who could steal anything and Ulstyr, a rugged warrior who paid more attention to the voice in his head than to the world around him. While her eyes read the words on the pages, the Dragonborn chewed slowly on the sweet roll in her hands.

Once she finished reading the book, Faye licked her fingers clean of icing and pushed the book away. She stood and stretched with her hands over her head before looking at his bed - the bed he used to sit on with his back against the headboard while she asked him question after question about himself and his brother and the Companions, and rambled on and on about random thoughts that popped into her head just so she had an excuse to spend time with him, a reason to stay in his presence.

Unconsciously, Faye's feet shuffled to his bed. She tentatively stretched out her hand to glide it along the fine cotton sheets. They were deep red in color and incredibly soft. She bent over and removed the books that were scattered on it, placing them on the floor. With a groan, Faye sat down on the edge of his bed and her muscles protested the movement. She was till sore from the long three-day trek she'd made from Riften to Whiterun. The Breton clasped her hands in her lap, twiddling her thumbs, and tapped her feet anxiously on his floor as she waited for him.

As her feet tapped restlessly on the floor, her eyes slid to a heavily battered, leather bound book that was resting on his nightstand. From the tattered look of it, he'd obviously read it several times over. Interested, Faye picked it up. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the insignia on the cover of the book and read the title: _The Book of the Dragonborn_. Faye had never seen this book before. Was it about her? What did it contain? Why was he reading it? The blonde immediately opened the book to the first page and began reading.

A few hours later, Faye was still sitting on his bed, reading the last words of the book:

_**When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world**_

_**When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped**_

_**When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles**_

_**When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls**_

_**When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding**_

_**The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.**_

She'd read those words before with Delphine and Esbern in Karthspire. It was the Prophecy of the Dragonborn that was carved into Alduin's Wall by the ancient Akaviri Dragonguard. It depicted several events that would preface the return of Alduin after his expulsion from the world. Faye remembered how the image of the "last Dragonborn" that was carved into Alduin's Wall was of a man - a huge brute of a Nord with bulging muscles, a giant sword, a large shield, and fine heavy armor.

Faye was none of those things. She wasn't even able to lift the sword Dragonbane or wear the Blade Heavy Armor Delphine had given her for her eventual fight against Alduin. Reading those words again, it reminded her that she still needed to return to High Hrothgar and speak with the Greybeards to learn this Shout that was supposed to help her defeat Alduin. Though, she personally didn't see how one Shout was supposed to help against Alduin, the World-Eater, the Nordic God of Destruction. She needed an army, that's what she needed. And a miracle. Maybe a few miracles.

Not wanting to think of such depressing things like her neglected responsibilities as the Dragonborn or of her imminent death at the jaws of Alduin, Faye closed the book and put it back on his nightstand. As she did so, her eyes began to droop and she began to yawn every few seconds. Unable to hold herself upright any longer, she removed her boots and socks, then her armor and under garments until she remained in nothing but her underwear.

The Breton then touched a black shirt where it lay folded on his bed. It was soft beneath her fingers. Hesitantly, Faye held it to her face, inhaling. The shirt was freshly washed, smelling of soap, but it also had the underlying scent of him. Faye couldn't help herself and breathed in his distinctive woodsy scent. It was such a unique blend of fragrances that made him unmistakable, identifiable by smell alone. She slipped the shirt over her head, her long blonde tresses falling to her waist. With a soft sigh, she wrapped her arms around herself, as if it were his arms encircling her.

Faye blew out the candle now resting on his nightstand, casting the room in complete darkness. With a yawn, Faye slipped beneath his sheets, reclining on her side. When she laid her head down on his pillow she inhaled deeply, breathing in his masculine scent that reminded her of moonlit walks in the woods. His scent was strongest here. It seemed to permeate from the sheets and rattle her mind. She adjusted, trying to get comfortable, but every little movement she made seemed to ruffle the sheets, causing a fresh onslaught of his staggering scent to assault her senses. With his scent enveloping her like a warm embrace, it felt as if he was actually there with her.

Faye closed her eyes and allowed herself to slip into one of her fondest memories spent in this room.

"_Read out loud," Faye ordered as she chewed on his last sweet roll. She was lying on her back at the foot of his bed staring up at the ceiling, her feet up in the air and resting against the wall. _

"_No," Vilkas answered, sitting on his bed as well with a book in his hands and his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him, his feet almost touching her hip._

_Faye bit into the sweet roll, then spoke with her mouth full, "Oh, come on. I'm bored and it's too quiet. Read to me."_

_His eyes never left his book, as he uttered, "No."_

_The Breton turned her head to the side, emerald eyes landing on him. "If you don't start reading, I'll start singing," she threatened. _

_His dark eyebrows drew together, but he still didn't look at her. "Don't."_

"_Then read," she ordered._

"_No." _

"_Alright, you asked for it." Faye lowered her feet from the wall and sat up on his bed facing him, sitting cross-legged by his feet. She stuffed the rest of the sweet roll into her mouth, chewed quickly, then swallowed. She cleared her throat and began singing in a very high pitched and off-key voice that caused the man sitting across from her to wince as it pierced his eardrums. "__There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from-"_

"_For the love of Talos please stop!" Vilkas interrupted, pleading, his silver eyes finally lifting from his book to meet hers. _

_Faye smiled triumphantly. "Start reading."_

_Vilkas sighed in resignation. When he spoke, Faye had to suppress the shiver that wished to run down her spine at the sound of his __dark, __deep__ timbre that was rough yet smooth, __like __whiskey but without the sting__. "The Thalmor besmirched his name when he had the audacity to publicly doubt and question their role in ending the Oblivion Crisis on Summerset Isle. Rynandor made the mistake of ignoring the consensus gentium, trusting instead to logic and facts. The shrewdness of the Thalmor, however, was not such to allow something as trivial as the truth stand in their way-"_

"_Gods, I'm so booored already!" Faye interrupted him with a loud groan of frustration. "Why are you reading something so boring?" Faye muttered as she picked a piece of lint off his comforter and flicked it away. _

_His eyes never left the book in front of him, but a quirk in the corner of his lips formed. "It's educational."_

_Faye scoffed. "Since when have you ever cared about anything educational?" _

_Vilkas lifted his piercing silver eyes to look at her from over the top of his book. "You mean you don't want to know more about __the fall of the Altmer kingdom during the Oblivion crisis and the rise of the Thalmor__?" _

"_No, and neither do you," the Breton jeered._

_The Nord gave her a pointed look. "How do you know what I want?"_

_Faye rolled her eyes at him, "Just read something else."_

"_No," Vilkas stated flatly, eyes returning to his book. _

"_Read something else," Faye demanded, becoming irritated._

"_No," the Companion responded before he began to read out loud again, just to piss her off. "__As soon as they shifted the collective opinion of defense to the Thalmor's attacks, Rynandor was quickly denounced and exiled…"_

_As if sensing her next move, Vilkas began to grin openly as Faye dove across his lap, hands reaching wildly for the book that his hand held just out of her reach. _

"_Give it, so I can burn it!" Faye shrieked as she clawed for the book, but Vilkas shoved her shoulder with his free hand to keep her away. Faye abruptly caught a hint of something woodsy, spicy, and utterly masculine. It smelled good. Really good. It was him, she realized, and she involuntarily leaned into him a bit more so she could take more of his heady scent into her. _

"_Dammit Breton, get off me," Vilkas grumbled and a sudden overpowering shove sent her flopping backwards, her legs flying wildly in the air as she nearly tumbled off his bed. __"You know… you really are annoying," he mumbled as he turned his attention back to the book in his hand._

_Faye stood, glaring at the Nord that appeared no longer aware of her presence. Knowing he would hate it and become increasingly annoyed with her, she grabbed his sword that was resting against his bed and with two hands and all the strength she had in her feeble little arms, she began swinging his sword around. Parry, lunge, block, retreat, riposte. But with every move she made, her arms grew increasingly weaker until she couldn't hold his sword anymore. His sword dropped accidently from her fingers, the steel landing on the ground with a loud clatter. Faye swore under her breath at her weakness, picked his sword back up, and started all over again only to drop his sword again._

"_If you keep dropping my sword like that it's going to become dull and need to be re-sharpened," Vilkas informed her, his irritation evident in his voice. _

"_Yeah, yeah. I'll sharpen it later," Faye replied flippantly, hiding her smile from him, happy he was finally paying her some attention, even though he still refused to call her by her name – only referring to her as Dragonborn or Breton or thief or that hooded creature._

_Out of the corner of her eye, Faye saw __Vilkas sigh in exasperation at her response. He closed his book and turned to put it on his nightstand. The Nord yawned then and stretched with his hands over his head, causing his red shirt to ride up his muscular torso, exposing a sliver of skin and lean, sinuous muscle. __Faye's breath caught slightly, and she dearly hoped Vilkas hadn't heard it, when her __eyes fell to his exposed __lower__ abdominals and the lines along __his__ sides that formed a __deep V__ at __his__ hips. She swallowed hard as heat blossomed within her. He was all sharp edges, corded muscle, and unfathomable power. She couldn't comprehend how so much strength could reside in a single person. She envied him._

_When Vilkas' arms returned to his sides, his intense gaze slid over to her. He__ eyed her closely for a few seconds before uttering, "You need new armor, Dragonborn. What you have on is too big for your petite figure."_

_Faye felt her cheeks flush from his words, but she reminded herself that he hadn't actually given her a compliment, he was just stating a fact. She did need new armor, she was practically swimming in the one she had on. But it was the only armor she had and she couldn't afford something new. _

_Needing to do something with herself or else she'd start fidgeting under his piercing gaze, Faye__ walked over and picked up the enormous book off his nightstand before dragging the chair from his desk over to his bookshelf. She stood up on the chair and proceeded to place the book back on the top shelf where it belonged. After playing with his sword, her arm was sore and felt like it would give out at any moment under the weight of the massive book.__ Faye__ rose up on her toes and stretched her now shaking arm as far as it would go. The chair tilted sharply to the side and her upper body swayed slightly._

_A large hand suddenly reached out and grabbed her outstretched elbow, steadying her. Faye followed the toned arm to find Vilkas frowning disapprovingly at her. Even though she was standing on a chair, he was still a little taller than her. On their own accord, her eyes roamed over the contours of his face. Even though he was frowning, he was still the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Thick obsidian locks fell over his chiseled face and she could see the deep silver of his eyes, like molten steel, and the tiny flecks of white that were sprinkled within those cool irises. The Dragonborn couldn't help but gaze upon the Companion with evident admiration and affection while she fought the urge to run her fingers through those thick, dark tresses. _

_Realizing she was staring, Faye forced herself to avert her gaze and say something. "What are you doing?"_

_Without releasing her elbow, Vilkas reached over with his free arm and took the book from her. __Faye stiffened as she felt his hard chest press against her outstretched arm. Her heart began thudding loudly and somewhat painfully in her chest at his proximity and the feel of him pressed against her. Realizing he was trying to help her, __Faye stammered, __"Oh, uhh, it's okay I can do it-"_

"_Don't be stupid," Vilkas interrupted softly as he placed the book effortlessly on the top shelf. The simple gesture made Faye feel about two inches tall. As his hands returned to his sides, Faye heard him inhale deeply before turning his head to look at her, his face inches from her own, and said plainly, "You smell like wildflowers."_

_Faye refused to let her cheeks blush. It was just another fact, not a compliment. There was no smile or smirk as he said it. His words had come out bland and impassive, as if he was talking about something mundane like the weather. _

_Faye suddenly squeaked in surprise when his large hands glided under her armpits and he gently lifted her easily off the chair and onto her feet. The Dragonborn placed her hands on her hips and scowled at the dark-haired Nord's back in frustration as he dragged the chair back to his desk. Did he have some sort of inferiority complex that commanded him to treat her so childishly? Was she really that weak and vulnerable in his eyes? _

_Faye pinned him with a fulminating glare.__"I am not a child, Vilkas. You do not need to treat me like one."_

_Impassive silver eyes flickered to her, watching as she stomped her foot in her frustration like a petulant child. "Then don't act like one," __Vilkas drawled, looking slightly amused at the little temper tantrum she was throwing._

_Faye huffed and crossed her arms over her chest before looking away. Vilkas moved across the room and picked up his sword from where Faye had dropped it on the floor earlier. As Faye silently fumed to herself, her eyes caught something shiny. The Breton squinted her eyes a little trying to make out what it was that had caught her eye. _

_It was a ring, she realized. A white gold ring. The band was in the shape of a vine of ivy with four leaves branching out of it that were filled with tiny emeralds. Was it his? How come she'd never seen him wear it before? Wait. It couldn't be his. The ring was much too small for Vilkas. Why would he keep it if not to wear it? Before she knew what she was doing, she had moved silently to his nightstand while he was busy inspecting his sword and she stealthily slipped the ring into a pocket on her cuirass just over her heart._

_"Well, goodnight," Faye said pleasantly with a little wave as she hurriedly moved passed him and headed quickly for the door, wanting to get to her room so she could examine the ring closer._

_Before she reached his door, however, his hand shot out and grabbed her hip from behind. With a sharp and powerful tug, he yanked her against him, her back colliding with the solid wall of his chest. Faye's body froze instantly as his fingers dug into her hipbone to hold her in place. __Her breathing became erratic__ as his body surrounded her in warmth. The air around them suddenly became thick and heavy with unseen tension, almost as if millions of tiny electrical currents had suddenly ignited all around them. _

_Vilkas' hot breath fanned across the nape of her neck sending shivers down her spine as his free hand came around her body to cross over her chest. Faye's mouth dried up when Vilkas slid his hand into the pocket on her cuirass over her heart. He took his sweet-ass time pulling out the ring she'd hidden there, his fingers inadvertently brushing the top of her breast causing her lips to part with a silent moan. It was driving her insane having him this close, making her wish he would touch her more, wrap his arms around her, kiss her neck until she couldn't take it any longer…_

_Vilkas preened as he held the ring in between his fingers in front of her face. "Nice try, thief." His deep voice was a mere gravelly whisper by her ear. Goosebumps erupted all over Faye's arms and neck, and a warmth like no other she'd ever felt before began to gather at the pit of her stomach before slowly spreading out to her limbs in a trail of fire._

_In a flash, Vilkas stepped back from her, taking his heat and his inebriating scent with him. Feeling tremors of anxiety forming within her stomach, Faye forced herself to turn around and face him. Her heart beat painfully within her chest like molten rock as she found him back on his bed reading another book, as if nothing had happened, the ring resting once again on his nightstand._

_Faye swallowed the lump that had become lodged in her throat and tried to sound indifferent as she offered him an explanation. "It's very pretty, and you never wear it." She shrugged. "I just figured I'd take that pinky ring off your hands for you."_

_Not even bothering to look at her, he replied evenly, "It's not a pinky ring. It was my mother's. The only thing I have of her."_

_Faye's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Vilkas never spoke of his mother. Neither did Farkas. She shifted uneasily on her feet as she became aware that she'd inadvertently stepped onto thin ice. "Oh... uhh... I'm sorry..."_

_"Faye..." __Vilkas muttered with grave severity__ in that deep, rumbling voice of his. __His gaze pinned her in place__, __a few strands of onyx hair falling over his sharp silver eyes, __and Faye felt his intense gaze could burn holes into the back of her skull. __"Don't ever try to take it again."_

_Faye bowed her head in shame. "I... no... I won't. I... sorry..." Faye was out his door before the last word left her mouth, only then noticing he'd said her name for the first time. _

The memory faded, but it left a lingering ache in her chest. Moving once more beneath his cool sheets, Faye curled up on her side, her slender arms going around her knees as she hugged them tightly to her chest. She missed him now, more than ever, but was also fearful of having everything go back to the way it was before - back to her pining for him, seeking nothing but his attention and his affection, while he ignored her. Friendship was no longer an option for them. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Faye knew she would never be satisfied with anything less than all of him. Not now. Not after she'd had a taste of him. She wanted him. All of him. Nothing less.

Faye didn't even realize she was crying until she felt the wet tracks on her face. Her body shuddered with her tears and with an ache that could not be met. She let the tears flow until there were no more left to cry, and then fell into a restless night sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brynjolf sat at the desk provided for him in his rented room at the Bannered Mare. He was bent over a piece of paper with a pen in hand writing a letter to Vipir with instructions on how he wanted the other thieves to carry out the guild's actions and jobs for the next week while he was away. The Nord paused in his writing for only a second when the candle beside him flickered and he sensed another slip in through the open window behind him. "Find anything?" Brynjolf asked without looking up, continuing with his letter.

"No. We were not followed," Karliah answered softly from where she stood in the dark corner of the room in her Nightingale armor. "I searched the city, but found no trace of Mercer or the Dark Brotherhood. We should be safe for the night."

Brynjolf nodded. "Good." The Nord dipped his pen into the ink well before stating firmly, "If Faye does not wish to become a Nightingale, Karliah, then she doesn't have too."

The Dark Elf folded her arms, eyes narrowing. "She _will_ become one."

Brynjolf gave her a sharp look, his words coming out short and clipped. "Not if she doesn't want too. If we need a third, we will use Vex."

"Vex is _not_ Dragonborn," Karliah answered tersely.

"No, but she is willing to sell her soul to Nocturnal." The guild master replied before returning to his letter. "I do not wish to force that upon Faye."

The Dunmer's voice turned harsh and acidic. "If Faye does not wish for me to expose her little Deathstalker secret, then she _will_ become a Nightingale."

Brynjolf slammed his hand down hard on the desk, causing Karliah to jump at his sudden outburst. Hard-edged green irises lifted to bore into her wide violet orbs. "You will not tell a soul about that," Brynjolf threatened, his tone increasingly belligerent. "You will have your revenge, Karliah. I swear it. You do not need Faye to achieve it."

He was right, and she knew it. Yes, Faye had the ability to Shout, which made her a helpful companion during a fight, but that was about all the young Breton had going for her. She was still the weakest fighter Karliah knew. Hearing the logic in Brynjolf's words but refusing to admit that she was wrong, the Dunmer averted her gaze and snapped, "Fine."

"Good." Brynjolf dipped his pen in the ink well and was about to start writing, but when the Nightingale didn't leave, his eyes lifted to meet hers once again. "Is there something else you wished to discuss?"

The Dark Elf nodded before stepping closer to him, holding out a piece of paper.

"What's this?" Brynjolf asked, taking the paper from her extended hand.

"A letter," she answered.

The Nord resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I see that. Why are you giving it to me?"

"I think you should read it..." Karliah watched him closely as she continued, "...and then give it to Faye."

"Faye?" Brynjolf murmured as he quickly opened the letter and began reading it. There was a flicker of something in his pale green eyes before they hardened, becoming cold and emotionless, his face turning into stone before the Dunmer's very eyes. His green eyes lifted to look at her over the letter. "Has she read this?" His voice was as hard and cold as his features.

She shook her head. "No."

"Good."

Karliah's eyebrows bunched together at his reaction. "Brynjolf... I gave you that letter because I wanted you to see how much Faye means to this Vilkas. I didn't give her the letter in the first place because I wanted her to become a Nightingale so badly that I kept it from her. But now… now I know that she deserves to see those words and make her own choice. It was wrong of me to try and take that choice away from her." Karliah's voice became beseeching as she gazed into the guild master's unmoved and expressionless face. "She deserves to read that letter, Brynjolf. It's the right thing to do, and you know it."

Brynjolf stared Karliah down, his expression dark and grave, before he carefully folded the letter in his hands and held it over the flame of the candle sitting beside him on the desk.

Karliah's lavender eyes grew to the size of saucers as the parchment caught fire and slowly began to devour the heartfelt words that had been pulled from a man's heart and poured so eloquently onto the paper that was now being swallowed up by flames. She stepped forward and gasped, "What are you-?!"

Brynjolf's cold and unrelenting voice cut her off, "Speak a word of this to her, Karliah, and you can kiss your revenge goodbye. I mean it. I'll exile you from the guild, and leave you to fight Mercer and his hired assassins alone."

The Dark Elf stared disbelievingly at the Nord, astonished at the depths he would go to in order to keep the Dragonborn with him. "You cannot manipulate the heart, Brynjolf," she warned him. "It will want what it wants, no matter what you do."

A devastating look of pain and vulnerability in equal measure crossed his face as he whispered, "I want her heart to want me."

Karliah smiled sadly at the Nord as understanding dawned on her. Most of the people who made up the thieves guild were orphans, lost souls that were plucked from the herd, trained, and given a purpose. They stole for the guild, bled for it, and in return they were given possessions of their very own - a luxury they'd never known before. These lost souls tended to viciously guard their few treasures like rabid hounds, snapping viciously at any hand that dared touch and take what they considered was theirs. Brynjolf was one of these lost souls, and Faye's beauty and status as the Dragonborn had elevated her to something rare and precious to be had - a sought after priceless gem. To him, Faye was an incredible treasure that he wanted to guard and keep for himself, no matter what he had to do to keep her with him. Gallus had been the same way, so possessive of her, his little nightingale.

Overcome with pity, Karliah cleared her throat, and murmured, "This is a foolish path you have chosen, but it is yours to take." She sighed then, and decided to let the subject drop. "We must execute Mercer for his betrayal to the Guild. This is all I ask of you. I must go now. I have a few preparations to make. You and Faye, or Vex, are to meet me at the old standing stone just outside of the Southwest Gate of Riften in five days. There the trinity will be restored." The Dunmer then slipped out his window, leaving the way she came without uttering another word.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 11**

Faye awakened to darkness and his woodsy scent all around her, thicker and stronger than before. The maddening scent of him hung potent in the air, pulling at the strings of her heart. She was warm, so warm, with something firm yet soft pressed against her back. A starlight smile spread across her face before she sat up and cast a Magelight spell. A small orb of light traveled to the center of the room and floated in mid-air, acting as the only source of light in the room. Once cast, Faye rolled over quickly with unconcealed eagerness to see the man of her dreams lying in the bed beside her.

But to her sheer dismay, there was no one there. Her smile slowly faded to a deep frown as she realized it was merely a pillow that was pressed up against her back. Looking around, Faye's eyes took in her surroundings, and more importantly, who was not there. The room was empty, with everything exactly where it had been before she went to sleep the night before. Falling back onto his pillow, Faye covered her face with her hands, her breathing jagged and erratic from feeling so high to suddenly feeling so low, her disappoint so strong it felt like a living thing.

Did he come home last night, see her in his bed, and run as fast as he could away from her? That wouldn't surprise her, though she hoped he'd just not returned home last night from... wherever he was.

With a despondent sigh, the Dragonborn sat up and lit the candle on his nightstand with a wave of her fingers, magic sprouting from her fingertips and igniting the wick. She stood and stretched, loosening her aching joints. With a heavy heart, she took off his shirt, folded it, and laid it back on his bed. She put her thief armor back on, then her pack and weapons. Once she was dressed, she gave his room one last look before she left, closing his door softly behind her.

As the petite Breton walked down the lonely hallway in the living quarters of Jorrvaskr, she couldn't help but wonder if they were all upstairs sitting at the table, eating breakfast. She decided to leave her hood down, that way Vilkas and Farkas would see it was her and not some random thief there to rob them. She didn't feel like defending herself against a house full of attacking Companions, trying to convince them it was her.

Faye pulled open the door to the main hall and walked up the steps with a nervous flutter in her stomach. When she entered the mead hall she was surprised to find only one person in the whole room, sitting alone at the long dining table with a plate of meat and potatoes in front of her.

Aela took a bite of her potatoes and lowered her fork to her plate before she turned her head to meet Faye's gaze. The huntress was not only surprised to see the Breton standing there before her, but was also amazed to find the girl's face exposed and not concealed by her hood like it usually was. It was the first time the huntress had ever seen the Dragonborn's face.

Aela ran her ice blue eyes critically over the lovely young woman standing before her. She looked so young, barely more than a child, no older than eighteen. Her body was lithe and supple, her alabaster skin smooth and flawless, her facial features soft and delicate and exceedingly feminine. Her hair was the color of sunflowers and it cascaded in long flowing waves down her back to her waist. And her doe-eyes were the deepest shade of green Aela had ever seen, and so very large and expressive, framed with thick black lashes that were so long they seemed to tangle in the corners.

Most women would be left with a jarring feeling of raw jealousy just being in this beautiful woman's presence, but not Aela. Aela couldn't see what either twin saw in the little slip of a girl standing before her. How could a Nord be attracted to something so… _small_… so weak, so scrawny, and so very fragile? No self-respecting Nord woman would allow herself to be any of those things. Nord women were strong, sturdy, independent, and fiery. So how in the world did this tiny milk-drinker ensnare the attention of two of the most attractive, honorable, and skilled - not to mention most sought after – Nord warriors in all of Skyrim? Aela didn't know. Nor did she particularly care. She just wanted the little pint-sized woman who she'd considered a friend to leave. Her presence was making Aela's skin crawl with resentment, her inner beast fighting for control.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Aela muttered with deadly calm, an antagonistic glare on her face as her inner beast lashed out at the tiny Breton.

Faye swallowed nervously under the nasty glare directed at her. Uneasily, she cleared her throat, "I was looking for Farkas and Vilkas. Have you seen them?"

Aela's glare turned menacing as her icy blue eyes chilled severally with sheer contempt. "Because of you, they hate each other. Because of you, two brothers have been turned against one another. Because of you, they've stayed away from home. All because you couldn't keep your legs shut. Is that what they teach girls like you in Riften? How to be whores?"

A burst of pain engulfed Faye's chest at the Nord's heartrending words. Her throat tightened, but she held back the tears that threatened to spill and reminded herself that she deserved this. "I... I didn't mean for that to happen. I wasn't thinking. I was just caught up in… I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean to-"

The Breton's soft spoken words and sincere apology made something snap within the Nord, letting her inner beast right off its leash. Aela's cerulean eyes flashed an unnatural shade of yellow and her lips curled back to reveal long, sharp fangs. "First you kill my Skjor, then you kill Kodlak, then you tear two brothers apart by acting a slut and try to steal Vilkas away from me... **haven't you ruined this family enough**?!" Aela roared, her unnaturally deep and savage voice piercing the silence around them causing Faye to flinch from its ferocity. Aela's body shook violently, her yellow eyes burning with unbridled loathing into Faye's large, watering jade orbs. Every fiber of Aela's being emanated feral hatred, deep-seated resentment, and belligerent enmity, and it caused Faye's heart to drop to the bottom of her stomach.

The hopes Faye had clung to while traveling to Whiterun were suddenly ripped out from underneath her in that single instant, like a rug torn out from under her feet, leaving her to fall into a dark and dismal depression full of self-disgust and regret. They had been friends once, the best of friends, and now… now Aela radiated nothing but pure hatred and contempt for her. How could so much go so wrong so fast?

Faye absently pressed a hand to her chest in a feeble attempt to alleviate the ache there as her other hand slowly reached over her shoulder. Her fingers curled into the soft leather of her hood and she slowly pulled it over her head until her face was completely hidden. The tears falling freely from her eyes were instantly concealed by the thick brown leather that acted as a self-preserving shield, protecting her from the rest of the world. Even though tears were running in rivets down her face, her voice came out quiet and even, nothing in her tone giving any indication of her present soul-tearing sorrow, a skill she'd developed ever since her mother was decapitated in front of her when she was a child.

With wry self-mockery, Faye uttered, "Yes. I have done enough, haven't I?" The Breton bit her bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the sob that wished to rip free from her throat. "I, Faye Ashhart, hereby resign as a member of the Companions. I will no longer be a blight on this house. I promise I will not return to bother any of you further."

Faye hurried to the front door, tripping several times in her haste, but stopped before walking out forever. She turned her head to look at Aela over her shoulder and smiled the saddest, most wistful smile. "Take care, Aela. You were the greatest friend I've ever had." Two teardrops fell from her quivering chin and landed on the wooden floor with a soft plop. "I hope nothing but blessings and happiness upon you for the rest of your days. Farewell... sister."

As the door closed behind the Dragonborn, Aela stared at the door with eyes of pain. Aela didn't want Faye's sweet words or her loving farewell. She wanted the girl's anger, her wrath. She wanted a fight. She wanted the Breton hurting. Just like she was. She'd said something, something she didn't remember saying now as needles of guilt prickled down her spine, but it was something cruel. And it wasn't as satisfying as she'd thought it would be. In fact, it wasn't satisfying at all. It felt like poison. Burning and hurting, and Aela hated it.

Abruptly, the huntress stood and looked away from the door as a fierce surge of remorse rushed through her. As her pulse began to slow and her eyes began to turn back to their natural shade of blue, she lifted her hands to her mouth as if in prayer as a wrenched sob broke through and her vision swam. Aela was not a crier, no Nord woman was, but she felt her shame and guilt and remorse insider her like a knife, stabbing into her and making her bleed.

With her hands tented over her mouth and tears tracking down her cheeks and smearing her war paint, Aela whispered, "What have I done?" Her blue eyes clouded over in anguish as she sank numbly to the floor, her legs unable to bear her grief. A sob left her, formed from guilt but sharpened by self-loathing.

_What have I become?_ She thought over and over as she rocked back and forth on the ground, her sobs echoing in the empty halls of Jorrvaskr. Ever since Skjor had died almost two months ago, she'd been losing pieces of herself to something dark and sinister inside of her. The strong, fun, friendly girl Skjor loved was dead, the ghost somehow alive inside her, haunting her. The hate and resentment she housed within her was like a sickness, a sickness of the mind and heart. She'd somehow abandoned her moral center and had done nothing but try and hurt the people around her. When had she become so malicious? When had she become filled with so much anger and hate? When had she become so sadistic? How had she fallen so far?

She'd allowed the green-eyed monster to consume her when she wasn't even sure she was in love with Vilkas. All she knew was that when Skjor and Kodlak had died, she'd fallen into a dark abyss of depression over their deaths. She'd been stuck. Stuck in a place that was dark and dismal, with no light or hope in sight. But then Vilkas had saved her. The night Kodlak died, Vilkas had comforted her. He'd taken her hand and started pulling her out of the dark pit she'd fallen into. He'd become a sort of rescuer. She soon found she needed him. Needed his comfort in order to survive. Need his light to repress the darkness that threatened to devour her. But she'd been doing some really horrible and selfish things, things she'd never thought she'd ever do. She'd been keeping them apart. She was being self-centered and cruel by trying to keep Vilkas with her when she knew he didn't want her. He wanted Faye, just as Faye wanted him.

Aela sat on the floor for hours with her hands fisted in her own hair, as her cries mingled with her tears and her screams as she forced herself to face the horrible person she'd allowed herself to become.

Faye was her friend. She'd given her all her trust. She'd called her sister. She'd touched her soul with her kindness and had stuck by her side when she'd needed revenge against the Silver Hand for Skjor's death, even though the Breton knew that Vilkas would hate her for it. She'd allowed herself to fall in the eyes of the man she loved just so she could be there to help mend her friend's aching heart. And what had she done in return… she'd torn into her, turned others against her, spat lies at her just to watch her bleed. But it didn't matter how much she hurt Faye or how deeply she cut her with her words, the Dragonborn was even more full of grace and kindness than when she started tearing into her.

Aela rubbed at her face, clawed even, to rid herself of the dirty feeling that covered her skin. She didn't know what she'd become, but she knew she needed to get back to the woman she was. Back to the woman Skjor fell in love with. As Aela stared into the whirlpool of her sins, the ramifications of her actions slowly sank into her, making her realize just how low she'd gone. Gods, what had she done? Skjor would be so ashamed of her. Farkas would never forgive her. And Vilkas… sweet Mara… Vilkas may quite certainly kill her. She had to fix this. She had to find Faye. She had to take it back so as not to poison her soul.

Before she knew what she was doing, Aela was flying out the front door in search of the Dragonborn.

_Faye… sister… forgive me for what I have done…_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Faye sat on the rooftop of Dragonsreach with her feet dangling off the side of the tall building. The sun was beginning to set in the west casting the city into an ever so slight violet hue. The young Breton had been sitting there all day, ever since she resigned from the Companions. A gentle breeze blew through her honeyed locks causing the long flowing strands to wrap around her waist as her woeful green orbs remained fixed on Jorrvaskr, just as they had been all day.

While she sat atop Dragonsreach with her hood down and the wind blowing through her hair and drying her tears, Faye had decided that she would head for High Hrothgar in the morning and return to her responsibilities. It was time for her to return to being the last Dragonborn. Time for her to face her destiny. Time for her to meet Alduin once again and see whether it was her time to die a hero, or die trying to be one. She could, and most likely would, die fighting Alduin. It seemed her time was up. She didn't particularly care.

Faye's vision began to blur with tears again as she realized that this was probably the last time she'd see Jorrvaskr. Her friends that had come to mean as much as family to her... she knew she'd never see them again.

She'd never see Vilkas again.

The Dragonborn felt an all-consuming pain in her heart - pain so raw and cutting that she flinched from the piercing emotions that shot through her.

Deciding she'd wallowed in her own self-pity long enough, the grief-stricken Breton stood and pulled her hood back on before climbing down the side of Dragonsreach to the streets of Whiterun. Once she was on solid ground, she moved unknowingly down the streets, her eyes drawn and dead, the dark circles underneath pronounced against her pale skin. The world merely blurred around her in dismal shades of grey as she watched her feet take step after step, slowly walking away from the only home she'd ever known. She was brokenhearted and lifeless, her world shattered. She'd never felt so lost, so alone. Her feet mechanically led her to the Bannered Mare where she knew Brynjolf and Karliah were waiting for her.

The moment the door to the Bannered Mare closed behind the Dragonborn, Vilkas and the other Companions walked through the gates of Whiterun. They were all tired and dirty and hungry. They'd run into bandits on the road and had to fight off over fifty of them. They were victorious, of course, but it had taken a lot out of them, especially Athis and Ria who were still recovering from the injuries they'd received from the dragons.

Vilkas used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow as he stood on numb legs, utterly exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes hidden by his black war paint. An unconscious Athis was thrown over his shoulder like a sack of grain while Vignar carried an unconscious Ria in his arms. Farkas stood beside them, just as drained, barely able to stand on his own two feet.

"Njada," Vilkas called, his voice hoarse.

The Nord woman came rushing up to his side. "Yes, Harbinger?"

Vilkas adjusted Athis on his throbbing shoulder. "Find a Healer for Athis and bring them back to Jorrvaskr," he ordered.

Njada nodded, her eyes lingering worriedly on Athis, her husband, before she went in search of a Healer.

"Torvar," Vilkas croaked.

The fatigued Nord approached him. "Harbinger?"

Vilkas looked at the blonde. "Report to the Jarl. Tell him what happened with the dragons."

"Aye," Torvar responded with a yawn before heading for Dragonsreach, a slight limp to his step.

Farkas, Vilkas, and Vignar then continued down the streets of Whiterun, their pace a little faster now that home was in sight. As they drew closer to Jorrvaskr, Vilkas struggled to keep his pulse under control. He kept feeling bouts of nervousness and excitement at the prospect of seeing Faye. She was here. He knew it. He could feel it. When he finally saw her, he wasn't going to let words ruin it. He was going to take her in his arms and show her how he felt about her with his hands and his mouth and his tongue. Words would just get in the way.

Farkas suddenly stopped walking beside him. Vilkas turned towards him, raising a questioning eyebrow at his brother. The young Harbinger was surprised to find his twin's face pallid, eyes wide open, as if he'd just seen a ghost. Curious, Vilkas followed his brother's line of sight to a Nord woman who was talking with a guard just outside the Bannered Mare. She was a comely young woman with short, choppy black hair and deep blue eyes. She was taller than most Nord women and wore brown and green tavern clothes that did little to hide the muscles on her arms and legs as well as the strength she undoubtedly possessed. She seemed vaguely familiar.

"I-Inga...?" Farkas stuttered beside him.

The Nord woman turned sharply at the sound of her name, facing Farkas fully, a bright smile slowly expanding on her pretty face. "Farkas..."

In an instant, the woman was running towards Farkas, her smile glowing with the joy she felt at seeing him before she launched herself at the Companion, throwing her arms around his neck, her feet dangling above the ground.

"Inga…" Farkas uttered quietly as his arms wrapped around her. He suppressed a sigh of contentment, as he smelled pumpkin pie on her, as well as the scent of apples on her hair.

"I was just looking for you," the Nord woman spoke hurriedly into his neck. "I just got back into town. I've missed you so much."

"And I you," Farkas uttered in a soft voice, one Vilkas had never heard his brother use before.

Vilkas wasn't sure who the woman was, but judging by the stars that were shinning in Farkas' eyes and the way he held her in his arms, he deduced she must've been someone important to him, someone special. Wanting to give his brother some privacy, Vilkas adjusted Athis again on his now numb shoulder and said, "Vignar, let's leave these two."

Neither Farkas nor Inga noticed the other two Companions leave, they were too absorbed in the sheer delight they felt being in each other's arms once again.

"I love you, Inga," Farkas whispered to her as he held her tight. "I never stopped loving you. Not for one second."

"Nor I, you," the dark-haired woman replied just as quietly, loving how honest he was, how he always said what he felt. "I have thought of nothing else since the day I left."

Farkas slowly lowered her until her feet touched the ground, though he kept his arms wrapped around her waist as if he feared she'd run off again. Sensing this, Inga cupped his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, Farkas. I promise," she assured him as she looked deep into his eyes.

His face bunched up in what she knew was confusion. "I tried to see you before, but you were never home. I thought you were avoiding me. I thought you didn't want to see me anymore." His expression became pained. "It made my chest hurt."

Inga's fingers began stroking his cheekbone as she replied, "My heart hurt too being away from you. But I had too. It was for my protection. _Our_ protection," Inga explained softly as her free hand ran absentmindedly over her stomach.

Farkas looked down at her hand and noticed her stomach looked different. He blinked. Once. Twice. He couldn't understand what he was seeing. Her stomach... it sorta bulged out in an odd way. She was as thin and as gorgeous as ever, but her stomach stuck out funny. Was she injured? Concerned, he reached out and cautiously placed a hand gently over her bulging belly.

Inga's cobalt eyes brimmed with tears as she removed her hand from his cheek and placed it on top of his hand that was pressed against her stomach. "Farkas... it's yours."

"My what?" Farkas asked, not understanding.

"Your baby." Inga smiled brightly at him with tears in her azure eyes as she patted the back of his hand, then held it in hers. "I'm pregnant."

Farkas wagged his head, feeling dizzied by the announcement. His eyed snapped back to her stomach. He looked terrified yet overjoyed at the same time. "Mine... my pup... you and me..." Farkas managed to utter, wide-eyed and gaping in shock. Inga could see him reeling in confusion, grasping at straws trying to comprehend what she was telling him. "But... if you're carrying my pup... why did you leave me?"

Inga lifted his hand in both of hers and kissed his torn and bruised knuckles. "Oh, Farkas. I didn't leave you. I went into hiding. I had too. The Silver Hand threatened me when they found out I was pregnant with a Companion's baby. I was so scared... for me and for my... _our_ baby. I just-"

With his heart leaping, Farkas scooped her up in his large muscular arms and swung her around as he kissed her. All Farkas ever wanted was to be a Companion, to protect his brother, to find a good woman and have pups of his own. And right then, he realized his dream had come true. He felt like the happiest man in all of Skyrim. "I have my own family," Farkas murmured blissfully as he kissed her forehead, utterly beside himself with joy.

Inga's sapphire eyes shined brightly into his with immeasurable happiness. "Aye. We are your family now." She kissed his lips and then said, "Now... put me down and I'll explain everything at my house."

With her still in his arms, Farkas turned and started heading towards her house. "Wait... Farkas... you have to put me down first!" Inga exclaimed, wiggling in his arms.

Farkas looked troubled. "But you're... you know..." His grip on her tightened protectively. "…it's better if I just carry you until the pup is here." The Companion nodded resolutely. "Safer that way."

Inga gaped at him, dark hair falling in her midnight blue eyes. "You can't just carry me around everywhere for the next five months, Farkas!"

His dark eyebrows drew together in confusion. "But I have the strength of Ysgramor. I won't drop you, Inga. I promise."

"Oh, Farkas," Inga sighed, but didn't continue struggling as she allowed the love of her life and father of her child carry her home.

**Author's Note**: Many people have written me asking when Faye and Vilkas will meet again, and the answer is the next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Author's Note**: Wow, thank you all so much for your reviews. I really appreciate them and they give me the drive to update as soon as possible. Okay, I know I said Faye and Vilkas would meet up in this chapter, and while that was true at the time, I have since decided to break Chapter 12 up into two chapters because it was sooo long, so they actually meet up in Chapter 13. But do not worry, that is why I have posted Chapter 13 at the same time as Chapter 12. Okay, enough from me, on with the story!

**Chapter 12**

When the Dragonborn walked dazedly into the Bannered Mare, she couldn't remember how she'd gotten there. She moved slowly through the room as if in a haze while Aela's words rang in her head, repeating like an unwanted mantra. Farkas and Vilkas hated each other because of her, the Companions wanted nothing to do with her, she'd torn the Companion family apart. It seemed everything she ever touched turned to ash. She was a curse, a blight, destroying everything in her path.

Numbly, Faye asked the owner of the inn which room Brynjolf was staying in, giving him the guild master's description. The Breton was emotionally drained, feeling unbearably low and lonely, and suffering from a busted heart. She knew she should go to her own room and prepare for her trip to Winterhold to obtain the Elder Scroll she needed to learn the Shout, but she didn't want to be alone right now. After receiving Brynjolf's room number from the owner, Faye shuffled off. She walking disoriented up the stairs, unseeing of the world around her. Standing in front of his door, Faye lifted her hand and knocked softly three times.

"Come in." Faye heard Brynjolf call from behind the door.

The Breton exhaled heavily before she entered his room, closing the door behind her. She pulled her hood back when she found Brynjolf sitting cross-legged on his bed with Mercer's journal open in front of him, studying it. He wore a white linen shirt and brown cotton pants. Upon her entry, he immediately closed the journal and put it on his nightstand before looking at her.

"Faye?" Brynjolf asked, his concern evident as he saw how empty and lifeless her eyes were. They were dull, lacking their usual sparkle, and there was nothing but pure agonizing sadness on her features.

The concern in his voice and the worried look in his eyes caused something to snap within her. Faye suddenly felt faint and the room began to tilt around her as the day's events hit her hard. She'd just lost everything. She wasn't a Companion anymore. That part of her life was over. Dead. Gone. She'd never be a hero like them. Never be strong like them and honorable. She no longer had a family. She didn't belong anywhere now. She was alone. Forced to live the rest of her life as a street rat. An orphan. Alone and unwanted. Again. She felt like she was eight years old again, being taken to the Riften orphanage.

Faye suddenly felt she couldn't breathe. It was too much. It was all too much. She couldn't swallow it. It was too bitter. Faye fell back against his closed door, her back connecting with a heavy thud. Her legs were weak and trembling, tears beginning to form around her eyes. She sucked in three jagged breaths before her legs gave out under her and her back slid slowly down the door.

Brynjolf was on his feet and crossing the room before the tiny Breton collapsed on the wooden floor. Faye realized she was crying, gently, softly, as tears began to fall slowly down her cheeks. Brynjolf fell to the ground beside her, his eyes gazing steadily at her while his hands rubbed her arms, consoling her. "What happened?" The guild master asked gently, his gaze searching. She seemed so battered and so small to him.

Faye's eyes closed, delicate pain wrinkling her features, tears flowing from the corners of her closed eyes. "I-It's… over… it's a-all… over…" she managed to utter between her sobs.

"Oh Faye… sweetheart…" Brynjolf murmured sympathetically as he held her against his chest as tears streamed down her cheeks. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and muttered thickly into her honeyed hair. "Forget them," he said over and over again as he held her against him while deep sobs shook her body.

Faye wasn't sure how long she sat there on the ground with her cheek pressed against his chest, tears running out of her eyes, her hands knotted in his shirt while she clung to him like a lifeline. At one point, the Nord tried to adjust, but the young woman clinging to him didn't let him move an inch. He couldn't move. He couldn't stop. She needed him to keep holding her. She was hanging on by a thread and if he stopped holding her, comforting her, it would surely break.

"You're not alone, lass," Brynjolf uttered gently as his hands rubbed up and down her back soothingly. Only then did Faye realize she'd been saying 'I'm so alone' over and over again into his chest. "Just me and you, lass," he whispered softly, so softly, against her hair.

The thought appealed to her more than it should, tempting her to replace the hurt currently clawing at her insides with Brynjolf, to forget the pain through simply allowing herself to be swallowed up by him.

The Dragonborn lifted her head from his chest, her mossy green eyes locking with his. The rims of her eyes were inflamed and tears fell unchecked. "I… d-don't know w-w-what to do a-anymore. T-Tell me… p-p-please… tell me w-what to do-o…" Faye pleaded softly in a stuttering whisper, looking at him with quiet desperation. "…I…I just don't w-want to hurt a-anymore."

"Faye…" Brynjolf whispered, so close to her mouth, she could feel his warm breath on her skin, drink in the sound of her name rolling like a piece of candy on his tongue. Brynjolf's fingers trailed up her arm, over her shoulder, then grazed up the side of her face. "_I_ won't hurt you, lass."

Looking into those eyes that had become two dark glistening pools of malachite, Faye found herself tongue-tied. She quickly ducked her head, loose strands of hair falling in her face, hiding her eyes from him. Brynjolf's fingers reached up to sweep away the fallen golden locks that were shielding her eyes, before cupping her cheek to guide his lips over hers, his kiss gentle and seductive.

The moment his lips touched hers, Faye knew she should push him away, but she was so cold inside, and he was so warm and solid and consoling. She was tired, so very tired, and her head felt as if it was about to split open. She didn't want to feel anymore. She wanted to escape, to lose herself in him. She knew it would be a mistake, but right then she just didn't care. The warmth and comfort he exuded was much too tempting, and Faye found herself unable to stop him, or herself.

Brynjolf smiled against her lips when he felt her respond to his kiss after a moment's hesitation. His free hand snaked around her tiny waist, and Faye's arms came up around his neck as he pulled her against him, his palm pressed flat against her back, the other knotted in her hair. He groaned wantonly into her mouth. She was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. Brynjolf felt his head spinning with his growing arousal as he ran the tip of his tongue against her lips, gently parting them, then slowly moving inside her mouth to meet her own.

The moment his tongue stroked hers, a strange sensation coursed through her, chilling her blood and cooling her skin. Faye quickly broke the kiss, and uttered, "I… I don't think I can do this. I-"

"I'm not like him, lass," Brynjolf whispered to her, his expression grave as he gently rubbed her chin with his thumb. "I'm not like him at all. Trust me. I won't break your heart."

Faye tried to swallow, but all the emption rising through her had gotten lodged in a lump at the back of her throat. The Nord hooked one finger under her chin, tenderly caressing her silky skin, while his green eyes dropped to her parted pink lips. With a suppressed groan, he bent down and slanted his mouth over hers. His lips opened her mouth to him, making way for his tongue that met and entwined around hers while his hands fell to her hips.

To be this close to her - to feel her against him, to smell her alluring scent, to taste her - a raw animalistic lust surfaced immediately. Without breaking the kiss, both of his hands tightly gripped her hips, and in one swift fluid motion, Brynjolf easily lifted her and repositioned her on his lap so that she was straddling him. Faye let out a tiny shriek and immediately flattened her palms on his shoulders to steady herself, her hair falling all around her in lustrous golden waves all the way down to her waist.

With her slender legs straddling him and her heat pressing against him, every nerve in the thief's body tightened and he felt the sharp pull of desire. Brynjolf's fingers dug into her hips as the warmth radiating from her pulsed in waves between them, and he kissed her deeply, thoroughly, and Faye couldn't help but sink against him as the kiss grew deeper, more urgent. She curved into the warmth of his body, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her fingers raking through his auburn hair.

Needing to taste her skin, the thief pulled away from her mouth and bent his head to sample the smooth skin of her neck. His lips caressed the column of her throat, his tongue making trails over her skin. As his lips pressed harder against her throat, his hand slid under her arm to hook over her shoulder, fingers stretching the collar of her armor as far as it would go, his mouth trailing hungrily over each exposed inch of skin revealed. Her head fell to the side limply, and she breathed a soft sigh with her chin resting on her shoulder.

"I've wanted to do this for so long. Even dreamed about it this morning," the guild master rasped, his voice thick with unmistakable desire, before his tongue came out to explore the hollow behind her ear. When Brynjolf felt the tiny Breton in his arms shiver, his need for her only intensified. The craving for her was so strong, it shook him to the core. He had to feel her against him, skin to skin, no barriers.

Brynjolf pulled back from the velvety skin of her neck and yanked the shirt he wore over his head and tossed it aside. As she stared at his wide shoulders and smooth, thickly muscled chest, he swiftly undid the buckles of her cuirass and tossed it aside as well, along with her hood.

Faye felt the night air from his open window caress the bare skin of her back, followed by his warm hands moving up and down over her spine. His nostrils flared as he took in the sight of her in the dim candlelight. "Perfection…" Brynjolf whispered, flashing that familiar charming grin as he ran his eyes greedily over her exposed chest. His eyes slowly dragged up to hers, and his pale green orbs burned lustfully into hers as he placed his palm between her delicate shoulder blades, his other hand coiling around her waist. He tugged her closer, until all her curves fit and hugged him in all the right places.

Faye's breasts tingled to awareness against the muscular wall of his chest and instantly thoughts of 'this is too much too fast' ran through her muddled brain, but before she could voice her protests, Brynjolf bent his head and nuzzled his face against the swell of her bare breasts, his breath coming out in ragged pants against her skin.

"I've wanted you like this ever since I saw your face," Brynjolf admitted gruffly against her silky skin as his hands gradually edged around her ribs to her breasts. He made a moaning sound, the sound of a man in lust, as he fanned his hands to take all of her in. Her milky white flesh filled his palms and spilled over the tops as he grasped her. The Nord's head lifted to meet her gaze. "You are so beautiful," he murmured while he kneaded her breasts and caressed her nipples with his thumbs. "There is no one like you, lass. There is only one Dragonborn." The redhead's gaze fell away as he leaned forward to place openmouthed kisses along her collarbone while his hands continued to caress her.

Faye's face pinched and her lips puckered as she thought on his words. He'd known her since she was twelve years old, and he wanted her now only because she was Dragonborn and he'd seen her face? Was it only her looks and name he wanted? Did he even _see_ her? Or was she just a prize to be won? Another item to be placed on his trophy case, between his Queen Bee Statue and his Honningbrew Decanter?

Sensing her uncertainty, Brynjolf lifted his head and looked into her eyes before spreading his fingers against her scalp, holding her in place and capturing her lips with his, his tongue immediately pushing past the barrier of her lips to brush against hers.

Faye closed her eyes and moved her lips against his, but there was nothing behind it. There was a nagging thought buried in the back of her mind, clawing its way to the surface and screaming that this was wrong, that everything about this was wrong. This wasn't working. It wasn't allowing her to forget the gaping hole in her chest that threatened to consume her. He was just a stand in for the one she truly wanted, and that made her feel even more terrible for what she was doing.

Her thoughts left her when Brynjolf ground his rigid length against her center and she made a stifled noise, her fingers flexing on his shoulders. She didn't try to push him away or fight him, but her body was stiff and awkward in his arms.

_This is wrong_, Faye's mind was screaming at her. _Very, very wrong_.

She had tried at first to pretend Brynjolf was the one she wanted, but everything about him ripped open her carefully woven lie. His voice was too high and smooth. She wanted to make him gurgle nails to make it rougher, deeper. His body was too bulky, his chest too boxy, not the lean body with taut muscles she wanted to feel under her palms. She wanted to cover his scent of cinnamon and juniper berries with pine needles, dry leaves, and forest fire. She wanted to cut off his shoulder-length hair and make it shorter. She wanted to run her hands through the rust-colored tresses until they faded to a deep, rich onyx. She wanted to cut out his green eyes and replace them with ones that were the color of moonlight surrounded by blackness.

She was using him. That's what she was doing. And Faye didn't want to use Brynjolf. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want him to suffer for her sake.

"Wait…" Faye murmured while she twisted, trying to free herself from him.

Brynjolf groaned, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her in place, and pressed his face to hers. "No. No waiting. I have to have you now. I've waited eight months for this." His voice was dark and grating, his hot breath falling heavily across her skin. He pulled at her hips so her body was forced to grind against him. He moaned at the feel of her heat rubbing so tantalizingly against his throbbing erection. He found himself kissing her, but she wouldn't open her mouth to him, instead she turned her face away from his. "Lass… please…" Brynjolf moaned, his voice racked with desire and deep frustration.

Faye's face scrunched up as she quickly shook her head from side to side, her small hands pushing at his chest. "This was a bad idea."

Brynjolf winced as her words cut him. "No… it's not. Lass…"

Faye maneuvered out of his hold and stood swiftly, snatching up her cuirass and hood off the floor, cursing herself under her breath. She couldn't believe what she'd just done. She'd used him tonight to escape herself. She was so ashamed. She couldn't look at him. Couldn't see the damage she'd selfishly caused. That's all she ever did was hurt people, ruin things, cause destruction. It seemed she had more in common with Alduin than she cared to admit.

With tears brimming in her eyes, Faye murmured softly, "I'm so sorry, Brynjolf." She slipped her arms into her cuirass, unable to meet his gaze. "I can't believe I did this. I am so very sorry." She had to get out of there fast, but her fingers didn't want to work properly as she tried to get her cuirass on right.

Brynjolf watched Faye dress from his spot on the floor, hurt constricting his chest while a sense of possessiveness swelled strongly within him. The guild master found himself taking in several calming breaths, before gritting out, "It's because of him, isn't it? That Companion. Vilkas." His voice held more than a touch of derision, jealousy rippling in his tone. "He's not right for you, lass. Don't you see that? I'm better for you." His chest was heaving now, his green eyes heavy with passion and need and ire. "I'll put you above all else, lass. I want you more than he ever will!"

Once her cuirass was on, Faye forced herself to turn and face him. "I love him, Brynjolf. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I can't do this... it's not fair to you..." Her shoulders sagged and she seemed to deflate. "I don't want to cause you pain."

Disappointment mixed with bitterness flashed in his pale green orbs. "Why him? Why does he get to be the one who gets to have you?"

"It's not my choice." There was resignation in her quiet voice, a long-instilled despair, and he could tell from the way her breath hitched that her words were whispers of an unchangeable heart.

The Nord was on his feet in a flash. Panting, he raged at her, "It is! It is your choice! You are choosing him!"

Faye's chin quivered as she responded softly, "I'm sorry, Brynjolf. My heart belongs to him, and only him. It always will. I can't just-"

"**HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU!**"

The words hit her like a block of cold ice. She flinched from their jagged sharp edges as they pierced through her.

The guild master pressed on mercilessly as he moved towards her, "He won't ever love you like I love you, lass…" With crimson strands hanging in his eyes, the thief reached out a hand and touched the svelte curve of her cheek. "He won't ever care for you the way I will…"

"Brynjolf…" Faye breathed, trying to keep her voice steady. "I will always, a-always love you-"

"No…" He half shook his head, unwilling to believe it. His hand refused to draw back from her face, her skin. Her warmth. "No, don't say that. Not that. Anything but that…"

She was looking up at him, her face stricken. "I'm sorry. You were my first love, but you are not my last."

"No, lass… Faye…" His voice broke off with sharp moroseness, his expression carved with acute misery.

"I'm sorry," the Breton's voice trembled with the force of her emotions. "He's claimed me. Irrevocably as his own in mind, body, and soul." She stared up into his eyes, silently imploring him to understand and accept what she was telling him.

The Nord's chest tightened and his nostrils flared as he ripped his hand from her cheek. He shook his head at her words, rage and grief and possessiveness warring inside him. It wasn't fair. After all this time – it just wasn't fucking fair. He wanted to scream at the sheer injustice of it all. He wanted to kill that Harbinger. Wanted to do it with his bare hands. Damn him for interfering, for taking what he wanted, for taking what was his. No one stole from the Guild Master of the Thieves Guild. NO ONE! He could fix this. He had proven himself many times over to be a master of deception, disguise, and evasion. He could set things right, one way or another.

For several seconds, Faye watched as Brynjolf stood perfectly still with his hands fisted at his sides, his jaw tight as steel while he sucked air through his clenched teeth, the muscle in his jaw working frantically, his eyes narrowed and calculating. She could see all the blatant hatred and jealousy and hurt swirling in his hardened green orbs, and she swallowed wearily.

After a tense moment, Brynjolf's jaw relaxed and he looked deeply into her eyes as he said softly, almost sympathetically, "I didn't want to be the one to break this to you, lass, but… Vilkas… he's already married." His words were spears thrown at her. So perfectly arranged. So wonderfully orchestrated in their falsity. They were meant to wound, but not too deeply, just deep enough to cut out the man who didn't deserve her.

Faye only had a moment to part her lips and murmur a soft sound of dismay and shock before she was forced to bite back a sudden, choking sob. Grief and jealousy and bitterness swirled and blended together inside of her into a powder keg that was just waiting to explode. "W-What?"

Brynjolf's teeth grinded against one another as he let the lie slip smoothly through his teeth, "Him and that other Companion chick got hitched in Riften the day after you were supposed to get married. It's all around town."

The Breton turned her jade eyes on him, and they glittered like polished gems. "A-Aela?"

The thief lied so efficiently, "Yeah, that's the one."

The constricting feeling around her heart came suddenly and without warning causing her knees to feel weak and her head to swim.

_Vilkas... he… he got married the day after we... we... _

Faye became inexplicably livid and her vision lined with red, her body vibrating with blind fury and raging anguish, forming fists at her sides.

_I gave him my virginity and… and… what had I been to him? Just a last fuck before he secured the old ball and chain?_

The air was abruptly becoming too thick for her to breathe and her vision was becoming blurred. Faye drew in a shaky breath and pressed a hand tight against her heart, hoping it would somehow ease the gruesome pain there. She clenched her eyes shut and fought off the waves of agony and despair, counting off her breaths so they were slow and smooth.

_He's married. Married! And for the past week and a half I've foolishly believed there was something between us. Azura's light! I even stupidly let myself hope that he'd be waiting for me, when all along he was married! GODS! How naive can I get?! _

She felt it then. A fracture - a breaking - something shattering into pieces inside her chest, an essential organ disintegrating within her ribcage. She inhaled sharply. There was no more imaginary duck tape to hold her together. This had been it. The killing stroke.

"Lass… please… say something…"

Brynjolf's voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. Faye's eyes flew open and her mouth opened to retort, but her lips began to quiver and her eyes wavered with tears, and a soft whimper of pain left her.

That whimper… that utterly destroyed expression… they had Brynjolf reeling with guilt.

Faye swallowed the lump caught in her throat and ignored the pain that felt like an empty void in the middle of her chest as she pulled her hood on before uttering, "I'm going to Winterhold. I need to be alone. _Don't_ follow me."

Brynjolf watched her retreating back as she walked away, her boots noisy and adamant against the wooden floors. He stood, waiting for something he knew would never come. He was waiting for her body to stop, to turn around and come back to him. It wouldn't happen. He knew it wouldn't. But he still couldn't stop himself from hoping, watching her back for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. But there was none, and she was out his door before he could even call for her to stay.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Bride & The Other Brother**

**Chapter 13**

Vilkas washed his plate in the kitchen sink of Jorrvaskr. He was blissfully full after practically devouring everything in the kitchen cabinet and was also wonderfully clean from the long bath he'd just taken. After traveling for almost two weeks it was nice to be back at Jorrvaskr. But it didn't feel like home, not without Faye there.

He grimaced. She wasn't there. He could have sworn she would be. But she wasn't. He was terribly worried now. She'd not returned to Whiterun. She was still in Riften. He _needed_ to know why. Was it because she was still injured? Was it because she thought she wasn't welcome here? Was it because she thought Farkas hated her? Was it because she thought he was with Aela? Regardless of the reason, Vilkas was going to find her. He was leaving first thing in the morning for Riften.

Vilkas ran a cloth over his plate and put it on the drying rack before making his way through the main hall towards the living quarters. He said goodnight to Athis and Njada who were sitting on the floor in front of the fire in the middle of the mead hall. As he passed them, he couldn't help but smile as he overheard part of their conversation.

"Don't be such a milk-drinker, Athis. It's medicine. Drink it," Njada scolded her husband.

"But it tastes like troll shit," Athis groused as he eyed the green liquid in his cup with disgust.

She punched his uninjured arm, causing him to wince. "You're acting like a pansy ass."

His lips quirked up and his red eyes softened on the Nord woman sitting beside him as he lifted his hand to cup her cheek. "Maybe I just like having my wife dote on me."

Her amber eyes narrowed dangerously on him. Scowling, Njada slapped his hand away. "If you're acting like a damn pussy just so I'll fuss over you like a fucking chambermaid, then I'll bash your face in, you tit sucking whelp!"

With a raspy chuckle, the Dunmer's hand returned to her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the two red lines tattooed there. "Why bash it in, my lioness, when there are much more pleasant things you can be doing to my face."

A devilish grin curled her lips, mirroring his, as his hand raked through her short blonde tresses. "You smooth elven bastard," Njada murmured huskily before leaning in and kissing him. "Now, finish off that damn medicine so I can take you downstairs and rock your world."

Vilkas chuckled to himself as he opened the door to the living quarters and walked down the stairs. The Harbinger padded down the long hallway towards his bedroom noticing how quiet it was in the halls of Jorrvaskr. Everyone was asleep, except for the couple in the main hall, Farkas was still out with that Nord woman, and Vilkas had no idea where Aela was. The acting Harbinger hadn't been there when they'd returned. He figured Aela was out hunting, though he'd have to reprimand her later for leaving Jorrvaskr unattended. The whole point of leaving her behind was for her to guard their home as well as meet with anyone who came by asking for their help.

Vilkas walked into his dark bedroom and sighed with contentment as he threw himself onto his bed and deflated into it, all of his muscles and limbs turning to jelly. Talos, he was so tired and every muscle in his body ached. He was going to sleep like-

His eyes snapped open as he inhaled deeply.

_By the Nine… it… it can't be…_

Vilkas flipped over onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow, breathing in deeply. His pillow smelled of… wildflowers. His heart lurched and threw itself against his ribcage. It was her. Faye. She was there, on his pillow. She'd been here. In his bed. He was sure of it. His eyelids fluttered closed as he inhaled her scent, taking her deep within himself. Her scent… it now permeated his room, his sheets, his everything.

Vilkas sat up swiftly on the edge of his bed and used a match to light the candle resting on his nightstand. Instantly, the single flame gave off a soft glow in the room. Vilkas looked down at his pillow and smiled heartbreakingly as he lifted a long lock of blonde hair off his pillow. It was hers. Faye's. There was no doubt now. His eyes shifted to the dried tearstains on his pillow. His smile faded as he reached out and ran his fingers of them.

She'd been crying.

Faye had been in his bed and she'd been crying. She'd actually come to Whiterun, to Jorrvaskr, and had lain in his bed. But she'd been crying. What did that mean? Had she simply come to say goodbye? She obviously left. She wasn't here anymore. And Aela was missing. Maybe they were out hunting together? No, Vilkas shook his head at that thought, after what Aela had done at the Temple of Mara he was positive the Nord woman wouldn't suddenly be friendly again with the Breton so soon. His frown immediately turned into a scowl. Maybe Aela had something to do with Faye's leaving. Maybe something happened between the two women. Aela had been acting very strange lately, completely unlike herself. Maybe she said something to Faye. Maybe it was Aela who made Faye cry and run away from Jorrvaskr.

Vilkas felt an unexplainable rush of anguish as he realized that Faye had come, had come to him, but now she was gone.

Gone.

Vilkas' eyes widened at the revelation and his stomach tightened with horror. The beginnings of panic gripped his throat as a nameless dread—a slow fear—rose to suffocate him. She was out there, alone, hurting and most likely in danger because wherever Faye went danger seemed to inexplicably follow. Chilling anguish slowly churned into quivering rage of unparalleled proportions. He began seething, his body shaking from the force of his anger, fuming from the unfairness of it all. The one woman he wanted most in the world had just walked out his front door, clearly planning to never return.

_Well… fuck that. _

He would get her back. Her tears were still fresh, maybe a day old, which meant she hadn't gone far. He'd find her. He'd bring her home.

In fifteen minutes, Vilkas was dressed in his wolf armor with a pack made. He raced out the back doors of Jorrvaskr, the midnight wind whipping around him as he ran up the darkened path to the Skyforge to retrieve a new greatsword and daggers. Vilkas ran to one of the weapon stands under the great monument of a bird whose eyes and beak were open in flame. He quickly picked up one of the greatswords and strapped it to his back. His hand reached out to grab a dagger, when the wind carried a scent to his nose.

Vilkas stilled as the store bought cologne of cinnamon and juniper berries wafted over him. The scent was familiar. He'd smelled it before, when they'd found Faye's slipper outside of Riften when she'd disappeared. With his heightened senses due to his beast blood, Vilkas also heard the faint sound of a boot dragging across shingles.

The young Harbinger cautiously took the dagger from the weapon stand, his senses alert. The noise had stopped, but it was too late. He'd already determined where they were. Vilkas spun the dagger in his hand with precise expertise as he listened carefully. There wasn't a sound for what felt like an eternity. Vilkas closed his eyes and strained his ears, his body coiled like a spring, ready to snap like a trap at any second. There was a faint rustle of clothes behind him, and with remarkable speed, Vilkas spun around and hurled the dagger at the roof of Jorrvaskr. There was a clang of steel - metal hitting metal - as his adversary blocked the thrown dagger with a blade of his own.

"Show yourself, coward," Vilkas growled threateningly as he stared into the shadows on the roof of Jorrvaskr. With no moon out tonight, the night was darker than usual. Moments later, his adversary moved forward on the roof until he was met by the light that the many fire pits lining the Skyforge gave off.

It was a man. A Nord. With shoulder length hair that was the color of fresh blood and eyes that were a hardened pale green. Vilkas immediately recognized the armor the man wore. It was the same armor Faye wore, except in black. Which could only mean one thing…

"Guild Master," Vilkas stated evenly.

"Harbinger," the Nord answered in a thick brogue.

Vilkas eyed the man suspiciously. "You're far from Riften. What brings you to Whiterun?"

The redhead nonchalantly averted his gaze and uttered one word. "Faye."

Vilkas heart lurched at the sound of her name. "Is she here?" Vilkas asked instantly, the words sticking to the dry walls of his mouth.

Impassive, pale green eyes flickered to him. "She is not your concern."

Vilkas' eyebrows drew tight over his eyes. "She is my only concern. Where is she?"

Brynjolf snorted dismissively. "Not happening."

Vilkas' mouth twisted into a savage expression. "Knock off the shit, thief. I _have_ to see her."

The guild master's eyes tightened and he snapped, "Well, she doesn't want to see you."

The dark-haired Nord's jaw was tense as he responded in a low voice, "Then she will tell me that herself. Take me to her."

The thief gave him a pointed look. "You know I can't do that."

Vilkas' brow jutted upward. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Brynjolf chuckled dryly. "Oh, I think you know, Harbinger. I've been told you're a smart man. I think you can figure it out."

After a few seconds in thought, Vilkas shot a baleful glance in the thief's direction. "Oh. I see," he ground out through gritted teeth. "You were before."

"And you got in the way," Brynjolf spat, glaring hatefully. "I'm here to warn you."

"Of what?" Vilkas bit out.

"The Dragonborn," he answered succinctly. "Stay. Away. From. Her." His voice was dangerously low and rippling with possessiveness.

Vilkas' hands fisted as a burning jealous rage flared up inside him. "She's not yours." Vilkas' rancorous words came hissing from his mouth, silver eyes blazing with enmity. "If she was, you wouldn't be here right now."

Brynjolf's eyes glared into the eyes of the man who was the only thing preventing him from having the Dragonborn, his expression furious, his face twisted into lines of resentment. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

"I think you came here looking for a fight, thief," Vilkas stated, his tone soft and deadly.

A quirk in the corner of the redhead's lips formed. "You are a smart one, aren't you?"

"You do realize that if you don't tell me where she is, I will kill you," Vilkas stated with a dangerous edge to his deep voice.

The thief raised one red eyebrow. "Is that a threat, Harbinger?"

Vilkas' face split into a dark grin. "Guild master, it's a promise," he swore, his deep voice laced with lethal venom.

Brynjolf snorted, uncaring, as he lifted the dagger in his hand to eye it coolly. "I'd like to see you try."

"I'll make you regret saying those words," Vilkas stated with ill-disguised menace.

Brynjolf smirked as he twirled the dagger expertly in his nimble fingers. "I'm not so sure about that."

The thief walked leisurely to the edge of the roof and did a front flip off of it, landing effortlessly on his feet a few feet away from Vilkas. The redhead swaggered forward, his steps graceful and confident, and brandished another weapon – not another dagger, but a sword. With a smug smirk, the redhead twirled both blades skillfully in his dexterous fingers.

Vilkas drew the sword strapped to his back and took a fighting stance, his heart rate accelerating as adrenaline pumped through him. The wind blew around them causing Vilkas to cringe. The guild master reeked of cinnamon and juniper berries, but under that revolting stench, he smelt something else. Something sweet. Something pure. It was the scent of wildflowers. It was Faye. It caused a pleasant warm feeling deep in his chest, but that warm feeling turned to stone when he realized her scent was all over the guild master, tainted by the disgusting stink of the man before him. Jealousy became a physical pain, jabbing at him, making him want to roar and shove his fist through the thief's smug face.

With a battle cry as fierce as a sabre cat's roar, Vilkas charged at the thief, moving faster than Brynjolf had ever seen a warrior move. The Harbinger slashed his sword down at Brynjolf and the thief was barely able to deflect it, and immediately rolled out of the way of the Companion's almost instant second attack. Brynjolf scrambled to get back on his feet, but could feel the dark-haired Nord coming up behind him fast. At the last possible second, Brynjolf turned around and brought his sword up, swiping Vilkas' descending sword out of harm's way. Brynjolf was alarmed to find that his arm was a little numb from the vibrations going through it from the strength the Harbinger put into his swing. Vilkas came at him hard then, never ceasing in his advance, and with every strike he made, Brynjolf was forced to take a step back from the force of the warrior's powerful swings.

_The young Harbinger is strong, very strong, and ferocious_, Brynjolf thought, somewhat impressed by the younger man, before he was forced to duck and roll out of the way of yet another powerful swing.

All Brynjolf could do was fight to stay on his feet and keep parrying Vilkas' attacks while praying he didn't miss. Brynjolf quickly realized he was in trouble. He was already breathing hard and draining stamina fast, while Vilkas was barely warming up. After a few intense moments of tedious and trying deflecting, Brynjolf knew he wasn't going to win this fight if it kept going the way it was. The guild master hastily distanced himself from his opponent and melded into the shadows that surrounded them.

Vilkas growled, "Are you hiding or quitting, coward?" He spun his sword in his hand to get a better grip while his body tensed and became poised for the attack he knew was coming. Vilkas breathed in deep, using his heightened senses to try and locate the thief.

Hearing a rustling of clothing behind him, Vilkas spun around and brought his sword up right as Brynjolf materialized out of the shadows and brought his sword down on him. There was a clashing of steel as their swords collided in metal fury with a loud clang that echoed in the silence around them like the crack of lightning in a stormy sky. They both pressed against the other and tried to overpower through sheer strength. Vilkas pressed harder, starting to force the other Nord back, and soon his strength overpowered the thief. Vilkas gave one final shove, forcing the guild master to stumble back.

Vilkas used his sword to swipe at the guild master, but the thief ducked under his sword and swung, the tip of his blade slicing into the Companion's thigh. Vilkas hissed as his skin split and blood began to soak into his black pants. The air was immediately tinged with the metallic smell of blood.

The guild master clucked his tongue. "You have strength, Harbinger, I'll give you that. But speed… that you do not possess."

Vilkas growled harshly in his throat, eyes flashing. "My anger gives me speed." Vilkas lunged forward with his sword aimed at the rogue, but in the blink of an eye the thief slid back into the shadows again. Vilkas growled in aggravation. Talos save him, this thief was really starting to get on his nerves!

Moments later, the redhead materialized from the darkness in front of him and Vilkas thrust forward with his sword, but the thief managed to parry. Brynjolf slid to the side and brought his sword down diagonally. In an instant, Vilkas felt the sharp pain of the steel blade slashing across his forearm, causing warm blood to flow down his arm and hand. Before Vilkas could blink, the thief had already disappeared into the shadows.

Vilkas cursed under his breath and his mind raced as he tried to come up with a strategy. If the guild master was going to use the shadows to his advantage, then he'd be able to run circles around him, constantly striking at him. He couldn't let that happen. He needed to find a weakness, or bring him into the light.

The next time Brynjolf appeared out of the darkness that surrounded him, Vilkas quickly moved back into the light provided by the many fire pits that lined the Skyforge. The thief had no option but to follow him back into the light. There, Vilkas easily dodged his attacks and was able to counterattack. Soon the thief's motions became slower than before.

_Good_, Vilkas thought, smirking. _He's tiring_. _He'll probably do something stupid any moment_. _Like now…_

Brynjolf swung his sword low at his feet, but Vilkas was able to jump on the blade and kick his palm. His fingers opened and the weapon clanged to the ground. Brynjolf tried to slash his only remaining weapon across Vilkas' chest, but he jumped back and brought his sword up in a sweeping motion, catching the thief's forearm with the tip of his sword. He heard a groan of pain from the rogue and caught the coppery scent of blood.

Vilkas' silver eyes narrowed to slits on the guild master, his breath coming in short pants as he bared his teeth. "Funny. I was just thinking it was high time that you started to bleed."

The redhead glared viciously at the younger man. "And I think I should wipe my feet on your face."

Brynjolf feigned to his right, but swept for Vilkas' unprotected left with his dagger. To his surprise, Vilkas deflected both moves in a swift, sure motion. The thief spun, bringing his dagger down hard in an arcing side swing, Vilkas rolled to the side, and as he stood he spun around, bringing his sword up in a sideways slash. The sound of tearing leather was heard as his steel cut into the thief's cuirass, creating a long slash from his hip to his shoulder.

Gritting through the pain, Brynjolf did a roundhouse kick towards Vilkas' exposed midsection, sending him flying back, knocking the air out of him and causing his greatsword to go skidding across the ground, landing a few feet away.

After sucking in a quick breath to get the air back into his lungs, Vilkas rolled back onto his neck with his feet in the air before using the momentum to hop back onto his feet. Landing softly, he hunched low, ready to spring into action, teeth bared with a threatening growl.

Brynjolf launched himself at the dark-haired Nord, and Vilkas let him land two slashes on him with his dagger before he ducked the third blow and slammed into him. He swept his foot, and Brynjolf staggered back a step. Not missing a beat, the Harbinger grabbed his forearm and brought his fist down hard on his wrist causing the thief's dagger to fall from his hand and he kicked it away when the redhead moved to reclaim it.

Brynjolf threw a left hook, which Vilkas ducked, the thief responded with a right jab, that was dodged, followed by an uppercut that actually landed, but the impact was laughable. Vilkas' head didn't even move and the punch didn't even draw any blood. Vilkas' lips curled into a smirk. "C'mon, Guild Master," Vilkas taunted. "I know you can hit me harder than that. Faye hits harder than that."

Brynjolf attempted to dissipate into the shadows again, but Vilkas' hand latched onto the thief's arm while he brought his other hand forward with a devastatingly powerful swing. Vilkas felt a rush of satisfaction when his fist connected with the thief's jaw. There was a sickening crunch and a spurt of blood before the thief was sent flying backwards and landing hard on the ground.

Brynjolf slowly hauled himself to his feet, wiping the blood that seeped from the split in his lower lip with his thumb, and muttered, "You've got a mean right hook."

Vilkas' smirk was deadly. "You haven't seen nothing yet."

Vilkas moved as fast as lightening, and Brynjolf only saw a flash of pale flesh moving towards him before both sides of his stomach recoiled in pain. As the thief bent over, he caught two explosive left hooks to his cheek. Pain exploded, and Brynjolf could taste metallic blood inside of his mouth as he lost his equilibrium and kissed the ground.

Vilkas ran to pick up his sword, but the moment he turned his eyes back to the thief, he found the guild master had already recovered his dagger and had moved beyond his periphery again. Vilkas became rigid as he awaited the thief's imminent attack. Unfortunately, the damnable rogue managed to sneak up behind him again and bring his dagger down against his shoulder. Vilkas experienced a sharp lance of pain, though he refused to show it. Brynjolf lifted his hand for a second blow, but Vilkas was already spinning around, and with a slash of his sword he hit… air, only air!

Vilkas cursed, unfathomable anger simmering beneath the surface of his skin. But then realization dawned on him. The guild master was fast and sneaky, but also very predictable. He attacked in the same pattern: from the front, the left, the right, and then the back. Vilkas saw the flash of steel in front of him and got ready.

_Front..._

Brynjolf appeared in front of him and Vilkas had to bow his back to evade the swipe of the thief's dagger aimed at his throat, and the moment he tried to counterattack the thief disappeared again.

_Left..._

Out of the corner of his eye, Vilkas caught the flash of red hair and he turned sharply and lunged forward with his sword, striking blindly into the shadows. He didn't hit the thief, but he caused him to return back into the darkness.

_Right..._

The thief materialized at his right, and Vilkas brought his sword up and blocked the thief's attack. The moment Brynjolf melded into the shadows again, Vilkas couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips.

_Behind..._

In a flash, Vilkas spun around and caught the guild master by the throat, his rough fingers pressing all the way to bone, his sword knocking the man's dagger from his hand. Vilkas could feel his nails go into the thief's skin, crimson blood swelling into his fingertips.

"No more games, thief. Where is she?" Vilkas' deep, rumbling voice echoed like a thunderbolt.

"May Hircine take you and fuck you behind a barrel in his Hunting Grounds," Brynjolf spat, both hands trying to pry open the iron-like grip that was locked around his throat.

"You know nothing of Hircine, thief." Vilkas growled the words so harshly Brynjolf cringed from the severe viciousness of his tone.

Brynjolf's eyes immediately widened as the Harbinger bared a mouthful of long sharp teeth, the nails digging into his throat felt long and pointed like an animals, and the cutting steel of Vilkas' eyes flickered at times to an unnatural shade of yellow. He looked more beast than man. It was possibly the scariest thing Brynjolf had ever seen. "What are you?"

Vilkas' lips slowly curled into a viciously cruel grin that was as demonic as it was spine-chilling. "Your worst nightmare if you don't tell me where she is." His deep growling voice held such ruthless promise of blood. A low ominous growl resonated from his chest while the most hostile and feral aura began to radiate from him, coming off him in dark malevolent waves.

There was no denying it. Right then, the young Harbinger was the most imposing, dangerous, terrifying being Brynjolf had ever encountered. Besides having the strength of a troll, the fierceness of a sabre cat, and sharp silver eyes that seemed to look right though you and cage your soul, the man leaked the promise of blood and death. And not a quick and painless death either. Brynjolf's sense of self-preservation instantly kicked in and he reluctantly responded, "Winterhold. She's gone to Winterhold."

Vilkas gritted pearly white teeth and snarled at him, "She's mine, and I'm hers." His voice was so quietly deadly, so filled with rancor, even Brynjolf's insides flinched. The thief was released then and collapsed to the ground, wheezing for air. Vilkas strapped his sword to his back and crouched down in front of the guild master on the balls of his feet, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs, the glare on his face sharp enough to cut bone. "I would keep my distance from now on, thief. Or next time I'll separate your head from the rest of your pitiful body."

While Brynjolf tried to catch his breath on the ground, Vilkas had already pulled a dagger from the weapons rack, tossed back a health potion, and was heading for the Whiterun stables.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A few days later, Vilkas was riding on horseback through a dense forest about a days trek from Winterhold. The humid morning air swept through his thick black hair as he pushed his newly acquired horse faster through the lush greenery of the forest that surrounded him. The sky rumbled above him with thunder. Dark storm clouds filled the sky, and very little sunlight peeked through. Vilkas could hear rain falling and occasionally felt a few drops land on him, but the canopy was so dense overhead that it blocked most of the rain.

Vilkas breathed deeply as rode down the path that led to Winterhold, and with every breath the mouthwatering scent of Faye enveloped his nose. Her scent was getting stronger. He was catching up to her. It gave him strength and made him move all the quicker. There was a hum of excitement and anticipation in his veins that worked in tandem with the unbridled need and longing coursing through his mind and body. He yearned for her - his Faye - with a need bordering on obsession. His heart only had one thought, one desire, one want. Her. That was all he needed. All he could think about. His one and only thought. Only her presence could end his suffering.

When he came upon a small clearing in the thick forest, he pulled sharply on the reins and his horse came to a stop. He lifted his head and sniffed the air while scanning the forest around him. She was close. Very close. He could hear the sound of a river nearby, as well as the sound of another horse snorting. The Nord quickly dismounted and tied his horse up to a nearby tree. Vilkas breathed her sweet scent in and out as the dampened underbrush rustled and sloshed beneath his feet as he slowly moved towards the clearing.

Where he found her.

Rain fell softly on the Dragonborn while she kneeled on the lush green grass beside a river. Her hands dipped into the fresh water before splashing it on her face. She wore her typical brown leather armor and her weapons and pack were lying on the grass beside her, her horse tied up a few feet away.

Vilkas felt his mouth go a little dry and his chest tighten sharply while his heart jumped erratically with indescribable joy at the sight of her.

It had been _so_ long…

The young Harbinger stood frozen at the edge of the clearing, not taking his eyes off the Dragonborn for a second. She was soaked to the bone. Her golden hair was sopping wet and fell in waves over her shoulders, down to her waist, sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Her skin was a little pale, her cheeks pinker than usual, and her lips had a blue tinge to them. She shook slightly, like a kitten left out in the rain. Vilkas didn't know how it was possible for her to grow even lovelier than he remembered. As his eyes roamed over her, Vilkas found he couldn't breathe. She'd stolen it. His breath. Keeping it for herself.

A lump suddenly formed in his throat and his eyes stung, and he tried desperately to control his emotions before he did something foolish that would scare her off, but he wanted nothing more than to rush over to her and take her in his arms, just to hold her once again. When she tipped her head back and let the soft rain fall on her face, a slow burning of need – a need to be closer to her - ignited in his core and traveled out towards his limbs and propelled him forward. His feet seemed to move on their own accord as they stepped forward, as if drawn to her, and a twig snapped under his foot.

Faye's head snapped towards him, her large viridian eyes meeting his. His breath caught in his chest. She looked… miserable. She looked so lost, so forlorn, her face bereft of color, of life. So heartbreakingly vulnerable. So unbearably withdrawn. And she looked like she was fighting hard not to cry. Her emerald eyes were wide and full of unshed tears, her lower lip trembling.

But in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Vilkas felt something squeeze his chest and his backbone snapped rigid as her startled and sorrowful expression slowly dissolved before his very eyes into one of the darkest, most hateful glares he'd ever seen.

The Harbinger's elation at seeing the Dragonborn withered to ash as his heart's desire stared at him like she loathed his very existence, as if he was the cause of her deep-seated pain.

Maybe he was.

And that scared him more than anything.


End file.
